Those Magic Changes
by fire-lemur
Summary: Can the heart overcome a world of change? A retelling of Jak II with more emphasis put on the characters and relationships. Generally doesn't deviate from the game's storyline, just has my own tween stuff put in.
1. Before Our World Turns Upside Down

'ello, poppets. it's my first submission, yay! for some odd reason, i've been possessed over the past couple of months by a desire to do _jak series _fanstuff. this means a sudden flurry of fanart for da (visit my page at iamymai. and an insatiable need to write the entire storyline of _jak II _with my own twist. a main purpose of this fanfic is to explore the characters and their relationships with one another, in particular jak and keira. i'm a strong advocate of the j/k pairing, and i hated _jak 3 _for screwing with it (although it was still a fun game).

so, we're starting between the first and second game. there's some j/k mush and i suck at writing dialogue, especially for daxter, so be nice. the rating will start low, but i can guarantee mature conent in later chapters, so that'll change.

so then, get some popcorn, sit back, relax, and enjoy!

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Before Our World Turns Upside Down**

A warm, gentle breeze played through the air carrying a tang of salt and seaweed. Dew sprinkled the soft, green grass and glistened in the morning sun as yakows grazed and periodically emitted low grunts when they breakfasted on an unsatisfactory patch. The plodding clip-clop of six inch wooden sandals sounded as a little green man emerged from the second story of a round hut sitting atop an island. Clasping his hands behind his back, the old man inhaled deeply, relishing the freshness of the morning.

His reverie broke at the sound of a large crash below followed by a yelp of pain.

"JAK! Watch where you drop that Precursor crap! You wanna kill me?"

Samos the Sage growled. The loud outburst had completely shattered the morning's bubble of serenity. Stepping to the edge of the wrap-around balcony, Samos glared down at the pair.

The source of noise stood about two-and-a-half feet tall and was covered ear to toe in bright orange fur. Gloved hands rested on his furry hips, and silver-tipped chin clasps dangled from a pilot cap and goggles on his head. He continued gesticulating and yelling at his significantly taller companion, causing Samos to grind his teeth in irritation.

Said companion responded to his friend's remonstrations with an amused grin. A wild spray of gravity-defying blonde hair with green roots spiked up from the youth's head, and big blue eyes sat in the center of his innocent face. A blue tunic clothed his slightly awkward body, and goggles rested on his forehead. One would hardly guess that this gawky teenager had saved the world from certain doom just two days ago.

Running out from the first floor beneath Samos, a girl joined the two and clapped her hands excitedly when she saw the sizable load they had just finished carting. Petite and curvy, her attire consisted of a white halter and maroon capris. Shoulder length green-blue tresses blew around her face, haloing sharp green eyes. Samos smiled warmly at the sight of her. However, his contented expression was soon replaced by a feeling of dread. He would have a mere few weeks more to enjoy the lazy peace of Sandover Village before events far beyond his control would be set in motion. Samos glanced first at the girl and then the boy with knowing eyes – eyes filled with regret.

After the girl dealt out instructions, the boys turned and began trudging wearily away. Samos chuckled to himself at the thought of the small one being flattened by one of the hunks of metal they would be carrying back.

* * *

"Jak, how many more dumb trips do we have to make up this junk-heap? I'm gettin' sick of all this heavy lifting!" Jak shook his head, considering as to how _he _was the one who really did all the work—not that he minded. The only thing that did bother him was his friend's continuous and incessant complaints. Having just climbed back up through Gol and Maia's Citadel for the third time that day, Daxter was more than a little irritated. The ottsel sat on Jak's shoulder as they rode the blue eco platform down to the few remaining pieces of the Precursor ring, ranting about the injustice of their task and blaming it all on Samos. Jak determinedly ignored Daxter and lightly jumped on top of the tower. 

Jak walked over to what was left of the Precursor ring and happily noted that this would be their last hauling trip. He was physically exhausted, and the low angle of the sun seemed to be urging him to his waiting bed. Taking a rope woven from yakow hair off his belt, he began tying several pieces together. Having made several trips a day for the past three days, Jak had become well practiced in efficiently tying tight knots. His uncle would most likely try and commandeer his newfound skill and "volunteer" Jak as a porter for one of his many adventures.

Daxter walked over to the last small section and bodily dragged it over to Jak. The ottsel would simply hang onto it while riding Jak's shoulder, therefore making him do the work. Daxter jumped onto his back, causing an unprepared Jak to fall to his knees with an "oof".

"Boy, you're lucky to have such a dependable buddy like me, huh Jak," The elf in question raised a skeptical eyebrow at his companion and hoisted the bound up pieces of the Precursor ring. Just as he did so, a tiny motion caught his eye, and looking at the floor below his burden he saw something catch the light as it bounced out from a piece of Precursor ring. Dropping his pack and straightening up – which caused Daxter to fall off his shoulder with a curse – Jak ran after the object and caught it just before it sprung over the edge and down to the forest below.

Bringing his arm in to his body, Jak brought his closed fist up close to his face before carefully opening it. He grunted in surprise at the sight of it.

"Jaaaaak!" hearing Daxter's irritated voice, he speedily tucked the item into a pouch hanging from his belt, "What the hell are ya tryin' to do? Are you an' Big Green plotting against me, or what?" Jak turned to the glaring rodent and smiled apologetically. "What, like you smilin' is gonna make me feel better?" Kneeling so he was at eye level with Daxter, Jak made the most imploring puppy eyes he could manage. Daxter's eyes widened. "Hey, stop that! Don't give me that look," he tried to act miffed, but the façade soon cracked when Jak very slightly puffed out his lower lip and completed the very picture of a pitiful youth.

Daxter relinquished, "Fine then, I'll forgive you this time. Just remember I'm still the stud of the duo." Licking his paw, the ottsel slicked back his ears and struck an "I'm too sexy" pose.

Jak rolled his eyes, but grinned despite himself. Helping Daxter onto his shoulder and once again lifting the Precursor ring bundle, he jumped back onto the blue eco platform and the two were on their way.

* * *

Keira paced around her lab, impatiently awaiting Jak and Daxter's return. She was itching to begin reassembling the Precursor ring, but the boys had had to take it apart starting at the top, so the pieces necessary to start with and the last to arrive were the base. 

Trying to calm her jumpy nerves, Keira sat down on a stool with a dull thud and tried to sit still, but she was soon drumming her small fingers on the tabletop. Whenever Precursor technology was involved, the mechanic in her was barely containable.

Making another attempt at calming down, Keira took a deep breath and tried to think of something else. Unfortunately, that meant her thoughts turned to the hero of the hour. Despite how obviously they were attracted to each other, Keira was still unsure of Jak's real feelings towards her. The boy had a propensity for blowing hot and cold, and the two never seemed in an appropriate setting to figure anything out. And whether "figuring anything out" was verbal or something else, interruptions never failed to occur. When the two had tried to kiss atop Gol and Maia's Citadel, Daxter told them to "put it on ice."

Keira sighed, remembering the moment. The combination of intensity and tenderness had taken her completely by surprise. There had been a certain underlying urgency in Jak's eyes, understandable when one considered how the two only had as long as everyone's attention was elsewhere and had never managed to do _anything _before.

But, the moment had been broken, and since then Jak acted awkwardly around her. Keira wondered if it was possible to ever get the moment back when she heard Daxter's voice. Completely forgetting her concerns, Keira ran to greet them and begin examining the last sections of the Precursor ring.

Seeing her coming towards them, Daxter struck a cool-guy pose and said, "Hey, baby! Whaddya say to givin' the lifting ottsel a big smackaroo?" Daxter puckered up, and Keira obligingly smacked him with a strong backhand. "HEY!"

Ignoring him, Keira walked over to Jak's bundle and happily exclaimed, "I can't believe you got the whole ring moved in just three days!" She began running her hands over the smooth metal and untying the knots. Fumbling, Keira noted that Jak's knots had become increasingly more difficult to undo. She frowned, knowing today was no different.

Suddenly, Jak was on the other side of the bundle helping her untie the knots. He did so with ease and was reaching for another one when he accidentally brushed Keira's hand. He hastily pulled it away and went for a different knot.

Keira stood and studied the expression on his face. He remained determinedly focused on his task. She left him to finish unloading the ring sections with a sigh, thinking that maybe she had lost her chance with Jak and the moment was gone forever.

She noticed with a small level of satisfaction that his ears were tipped pink in a blush.

Keira ran into her lab and shortly returned with a tool bag. Now it was time for what she had been waiting for: reassembling the Precursor ring.

Keira worked furiously for several weeks, enchanted with her project. A small work table had been moved outside and stood beside the Precursor ring. After only the first day of work, the table was littered with various sketches and blueprints, drafting tools, nuts and bolts, and remnants of the day's meals. She frequently forgot to eat or stayed up too late, but that hardly fazed her. Samos worried over her health and even Jak tried to get her to rest more, but Keira would not be swayed. The forces of creation were pulsing in her mechanic's veins, and she had no intention of slowing her break-neck pace.

In the beginning, Keira did the work entirely by herself, but as she got further along and the ring loomed higher and higher off the ground she got the boys to do the grunt work. Jak would generally be the one to get the basics in place, and then Daxter would do some of the more delicate work and temporarily attach sections of the ring just long enough for Keira to get to them. On several occasions, this meant a nasty fall and a bruise. In one such incident, Daxter slipped, Jak caught him by the tail and in-so-doing lost his grip, and both came crashing down to the waiting grass.

Jak needed some minor first-aid but acted undaunted and waved at his cuts and bruises like they were nothing.

Daxter had sustained only a tiny bruise but moaned like a sick yakow in an effort to get doctored up by Keira.

After three weeks the Precursor ring was complete. Keira was making some minor adjustments when Jak sans Daxter came up behind her and tapped her on the back. She was so completely absorbed in the task at hand that she hadn't even heard him walk up and gave a small screech of surprise when she felt his touch. "Oh, Jak! It's you," She mentally slapped herself for sounding so lame. "Uh… what are you doing here?"

He gestured to the Precursor ring towering over them with a questioning look, and she read his meaning easily, "Yup, It's finally done! We'll be able to test it out tomorrow." She couldn't help but giggle slightly in anticipation, but quickly tried to stifle it, unsuccessfully. Again berating herself, she put on a neutral expression and looked at Jak. She was confused to see a broad grin on his face and a warm twinkle in his eye. "What? What's so funny?" He raised a big finger and tapped her forehead. She blushed and stammered, "No, you're the one who's funny, acting so weird." He crossed his arms and continued smiling at her.

She straightened up, "Stop making fun of me. You know how I am when it comes to stuff like this," she waved her hand at the Precursor ring and machine in illustration, "Anyway, what do you want?" In answer, Jak pointed at the sun and lowered his arm until it was pointing below the horizon and then deliberately gestured at Keira, himself, and the ground beneath their feet.

"You want me to meet you here after sunset?" He nodded.

"What for?" He put a finger to his lips, as if to say it was a secret.

Having gotten his point across, Jak waved to Keira before turning and heading back down the bridge to the village looking as happy as a crocadog about to chomp down on an elusive bone.

She put her hands on her hips and stared after him with a wondering expression. She shook her head and was about to turn away when her eyes traveled down his body and watched the sway of his hips as he walked. A ripple of desire washed through her body, and she abruptly returned to her work.

Later that evening, the stars were beginning to show, and she was still tinkering when Jak showed up. Noticing his approach, she quickly dropped her tools and reached for a cloth to mop herself up. Once finished, she turned to face Jak. As soon as he stepped off the second bridge he froze and stared at her. His mouth opened slightly, and then a smile crept up his face. Jak soon was bending over and shaking trying to keep himself from laughing.

Wondering what the hell could be so amusing and starting to feel upset, Keira was about to demand what was wrong when she looked down. To her horror, she was covered in oil and machine grime. Attention snapping back to her work table, she saw that the cloth she had mopped herself with was a filthy rag she had been using on the Precursor ring.

At the expression on her face, Jak was barely able to contain his laughter. Keira began frantically searching for a clean rag, with little success. She was starting to feel like crying when Jak walked up, grabbed a cloth hidden beneath a stack of drafts, and gently wiped the oil off her skin, no hint of laughter in his face now. He was trying to apologize.

Keira took a shaky breath before saying, "It's okay, Jak. Thanks," and she tried to take the cloth. However, Jak was determined to finish the job and gave her a slightly stern look before continuing. Keira sighed in defeat and instead settled for enjoying Jak cleaning her up.

Once he was done, he threw the cloth onto the work table, grinned at her, and walked away, cocking his head for her to follow.

Keira was somewhat surprised that Daxter was nowhere in sight, but decided not to say anything. The two walked down into the village. The windows were lit by warm candles and fires within, casting an orange, cheery light while the sky burned black and blue.

"Jak, where are we going?" Keira asked the elf in front of her, who abruptly stopped and almost caused her to run into him.

Turning around, Jak reassuringly took her hand in his and smiled as if to promise her she would like it. Slightly confused and more than a little curious, Keira returned the smile and let him lead her forward. The pair walked on in silence under the star peppered sky and listened as the night came alive. Crickets chirped noisily and blades of grass rustled in the wind. The ocean waves undulated over the white sand, whispering a rhythmic lullaby, a silver thread of sound that wove a bass line through the music of the night.

Keira briefly closed her eyes and enjoyed nature's midnight symphony, feeling totally at peace. Happy to be where she was, she returned her attention to Jak. Looking at his back, Keira felt a wave of giddiness wash over her, noticing how warm his big hand felt around hers. They were all alone…

Passing the farmer's house and taking a left, the two headed up to the entrance to Fire Canyon. Gently pulling her to the left wall of the entrance, Jak released her hand and began climbing up through a narrow and easily overlooked crevasse in the rock. Really interested as to their destination now, Keira eagerly climbed up after him. After thirty feet or so, the crevasse expanded into a small ledge. Stepping up onto it, Keira looked around and saw Jak scaling a stair-like rock formation that hugged the cliff face. She followed, and just when she was wondering how much longer the climb could possibly go on, she found herself standing at the top of the cliffs overlooking Sandover Village and the ocean beyond. The roofs below gleamed in the nightglow, and Samos' lit up hut shone like a beacon. Sentinel Beach, the Forbidden Jungle, and even Misty Island far in the distance were all visible, bathed in starlight. Keira could dimly hear the sound of waves below and the taste of salt lingered in the air.

The view was breathtaking.

Jak grinned at her proudly, and she stared at him incredulously. "How on earth did you find this place?"

The mute shrugged noncommittally, implying he just happened to stumble on it one day, but continued grinning happily.

Keira beamed at him. "It's absolutely beautiful," she said, sitting down and leaning against a rock. Jak sat down beside her with an excited gleam in his eyes and pointed down towards the village. Keira understood his gesture with ease. "I know. I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight knowing tomorrow's the big test day. Can you believe it's been just three weeks since we started assembling the Precursor ring?" He shook his head in answer and was still.

The pair sat side by side in companionable silence for a time, watching the stars in the sky and listening to the waves in the ocean. Yet Keira felt herself grow more and more antsy with each passing moment. One reason was the close proximity of Jak to herself. She could hear his soft even breath and feel the heat of his body next to hers. She wondered if Jak would ever know how much he confused her. Despite her vivacious personality, Keira found it difficult to express more complex emotions, such as what she felt for Jak. She wasn't really even sure of what she felt for him, but she knew it was something meaningful.

She decided to discuss the other issue bugging her. "What do you think is going to happen tomorrow, Jak?"

He shrugged.

"To be honest, I'm a little bit scared to find out. Maybe something incredible will happen. Maybe our names will go down in history for what we discover," hearing the tone in her voice, Jak looked at her now, "or maybe not. Maybe something awful will happen, and we'll be to blame for some terrible disaster," she exhaled, "Anything can happen if the Precursors are involved."

Her heart skipped a beat when she felt Jak's calloused fingers cup her chin. Raising her head up, he gazed at her as a slight crease formed on his brow, saying "come on, this isn't the positive girl I know."

Keira sighed in agreement. "You're right. I'm being silly, and I really do want to test the machine tomorrow. It's just…" _I'm afraid_. She trialed off weakly.

Keira truly did want to turn on the machine and see what the Precursor ring would do. She was far too much of an experimental person not to. But over the past few days she had begun to have doubts. After all, this was Precursor technology, the most powerful and potentially dangerous force their planet had ever known, even more so than dark eco. What if something bad did happen? What if she was hurt in the process? What if Samos or Daxter or Jak was? What if she couldn't do anything to help them? What if she couldn't do anything at all?

Suddenly, gently, Jak's arm was around her, his rough hand resting on her shoulder, causing her breath to catch in her throat. He was so close she could smell his scent. She could feel the taught skin of his arm against her back. She could feel the beat of his heart.

If she wasn't aware of him before, she certainly was now.

Somewhat wide-eyed, Keira dared a glance up and found herself suddenly stunned, caught in the deep, blue depths of Jak's eyes. God, how she loved his eyes. He smiled again, a radiant smile that made Keira want to melt, and lightly squeezed her shoulder, as if to say "don't worry, I'll protect you." Reaching into his pocket, Jak withdrew a closed fist and held it out in front of Keira. Curious, she held her hand out and was astonished by what he dropped into it. A small, round object, no bigger than her pinky finger nail, fell into her open palm. Immediately a delicious warmth radiated from her hand out through her entire body, and she felt all her worry and stress wash away. The object glowed brightly, emitting a pure white light that lit their faces and the darkness beyond.

She gasped. "…A light eco crystal…"

Keira turned to face him. "Jak, I…" She found she could speak no more when she was again mesmerized by his eyes. They locked with hers and peered into the very depths of her soul, searching for an answer to an unspoken question. He smiled hopefully, and it occurred to Keira how incredibly lucky Jak was to have obtained a substance as incredibly rare as light eco twice, much less a permanent crystallized version. And the fact that he would choose to give it to her rather than keep it for himself… The enormity of such a gift was staggering, and Keira found herself at a loss for words. Her eyes widened a touch more when Jak, looking thoroughly confused and unsure, leaned in closer to her. His face was just inches from hers, his incredible eyes still asking the same question. The only words she could manage were a soft, "Thank you…" before their lips met and she answered him.

* * *

such puppy love... i prefer more complex romance. later, it'll come later. 

well, the second chapter's mostly done, so i might be submitting it within the week. hopefully you can't wait to read more... cough, cough

i'm out of practice and i want your opinion, so please review!


	2. The Rift Gate

yay! i finished chapter two already! although, since it was so speedy it might very well not be too good. i usually reread a completed draft several times over the course of a couple days before i'll say it's polished. ah well.

now for some thank yous:

**JakLover: **thanks so much! i totally feel your pain about a lot of bad j/k stories. one of the main reasons i decided to write this fic is because i don't think there are enough good ones.

**mecca-dog: **oh man, that kiss pissed me off so much! that was a huge contributor to _jak 3_'s sucktastic ending, but i still love ashelin. a keira/torn fic sounds fascinating, tho. i think i might have to check that out. thanks for reviewing!

**Ecohorse: **glad you liked it. thanks so much for reviewing!

**LunarSquirrel: **thanks! i was pretty proud of myself for the whole light eco crystal idea, especially because of how it'll play into the story later... (mwa ha ha! teaser!) i agree about ppl always starting at the beginning of the game. i think it's lazy, and you can much better introduce the story you have total creative freedom. just starting with what you're given is limiting. and yes, i am putting that scene into this chapter, so i hope you like it! thanks for reviewing!

alrighty, so here we go into chapter two. i will be using the same dialogue from the game, but i'll occassionally change the inflection a character uses or switch lines, like how i do with errol and a soldier.

enjoy!

* * *

** Those Magic Changes**

**The Rift Gate**

"Today's the big day, Jak. I hope you are prepared for whatever happens." The youth smiled at Samos and held up his arm, making a confident fist.

Keira turned, wrench in hand, and waved a greeting to her father before saying, "I think I figured out most of this machine. It interacts somehow with that large Precursor ring," she indicated the large zoomer-like contraption she was standing in and then the brightly shining Precursor ring above, "I just hope we didn't break anything moving it here to the lab." She sat down and gave a worried frown. Jak couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked as the noon breeze brushed her hair against her soft cheeks. He sat to her right and was moving in rather close when Daxter popped up between the two, incensed.

"Easy for you to say! We did all the heavy lifting!" Keira rolled her eyes, and Daxter with a big "harrumph" looked absently at the control panel in front of him.

His interest was soon caught by an object sticking out of the dash that looked similar to a Precursor orb. He raised a finger to tap it when Samos' voice rang out, "DAXTER! Don't touch_ anything_!" The old sage glared at him significantly and reverently placed a wrinkled hand on his chest. "Though the Precursors vanished long ago, the artifacts they left behind can still do great harm."

"Or great good," Keira added, "If you figure out how to use them."

Jak watched the scene with little interest. He had heard many such portentous comments from Samos before, and him fighting with Daxter was certainly nothing new. Although, Jak couldn't help but smile when Daxter lifted up his right hand and began wordlessly flapping his mouth, his fingers moving in time.

Samos promptly whacked him over the head with his cane.

"I've had experience with such things!" Reigning in his anger and taking a seat in the machine, the sage turned to Jak. "I know you can make it work."

With everyone in the machine, they all stared at Jak expectantly. Now getting slightly nervous, the boy looked down at the control panel, his fingers twitching. After a moment's consideration, Jak decided on the big ruby button.

The egg-shaped object immediately split in half revealing a small floating gyroscope within. It spun swiftly as little spheres glided in a quivering circle around it.

"Looks like Jak's still got the mojo!" Daxter nodded up at Jak approvingly.

Keira leaned forward, fascinated by the object. "Interesting… It appears to be reading out some preset coordinates."

Suddenly the machine rumbled beneath them and the disk on its back rotated with a rusty groan. A bolt of electricity spiked from a prong on the disk to the Precursor ring. The skies darkened ominously, and the very island began shaking. Jak frantically looked around, but his attention was quickly brought back to the ring when a grating screech sounded from its direction. The ring moved slightly and the supports holding it up snapped from the pressure and crashed into the water below. Instead of following them into the sea, the Precursor ring levitated and spun faster, its two concentric rings moving in opposite directions.

Daxter pointed up to the ring, "Wow! Look at that!"

As if on cue, the ring spun faster, and a cloudy mass of glowing purple swirled towards its center, replacing the shining white light. It looked like an enormous warp gate.

Daxter cringed in fear when a terrible voice boomed out from the ring, "Finally! The last rift gate has been opened!"

Jak gasped in horror when flying creatures unlike any he had ever seen swarmed from the gate and began wreaking havoc on the village.

Daxter wailed, "What are those things!"

Samos' voice carried to Jak's ears, his tone strange, "So _this_ is how it happened…" Jak frowned at the sage, but didn't have time to dwell on his odd statement.

A massive, hideous head popped out of the ring. Four gleaming yellow eyes peered out of a gray metallic face haloed by wickedly curved spines. Sharp teeth protruded from a foul mouth that grinned maliciously. An enormous gem lay embedded in the creature's forehead, glowing a ghostly lutescent color. A putrid stench radiated from its strange, metal-plated body, and Jak breathed only through his mouth in an attempt block the smell. It screamed out in its petrifying voice, "You cannot hide from me boy!"

Jak felt something deep inside him stir at the sight of the monster. It struck a terrifying chord in his brain, and he could feel himself breaking out into a cold sweat. He felt he was being revisited by an old nightmare, the kind which makes you fall out of your bed screaming.

Jak was sharply brought back to the present when Keira began shouting at him, "Do something, Jak!"

Daxter frantically pointed at the control panel. "What's this do? Or that? How 'bout this one? Everybody, press all the buttons!"

Jak stared around him as the foreign creatures destroyed the village, Daxter and Keira panicked, and Samos looked on entranced. He could feel his own urge to scream rise up and knew that this was an enemy far beyond any he had ever faced. Even Gol and Maia's powers seemed like sputtering candle flames in comparison with the raging inferno of terror before him now. For lack of a better option, Jak punched the ruby button again.

The engine roared to life, sending flames out the rear of the Precursor machine. Jak's stomach clenched in anticipation of an event he didn't even know was coming. Moments later, the machine launched forward with a boom, and they were traveling up the ramp towards the monster. Jak closed his eyes and prepared for the death that was surely coming when, to his surprise, they continued flying forward, the sound of destruction around them gone. Opening his eyes, Jak saw they were inside the Precursor ring, white and purple light streaking past them in droves.

"What was that thing?" asked a wide-eyed Keira.

In response, the machine shook beneath them and started to speed up.

Samos gripped the edge of the control panel. "Hang on everyone!"

The machine flew forward with such velocity that Jak felt like the skin was being sucked off his face. Daxter's voice rose an octave, "YAAAAAH! I want _off _this thing!"

Still, the machine was picking up speed. Jak was beginning to think he couldn't take any more when a bolt of light sprung at the machine and hit the disk on its back. Seconds later, the entire machine exploded, sending its passengers spiraling off into the portal. Jak felt Daxter latch onto his arm in a death grip and heard Keira screaming in the distance. Samos yelled, "Find yourself, Jak!" and the boy was swallowed up by blinding light.

Jak's freefall was abruptly and painfully ended when he landed on a hard surface, knocking the breath out of his body.

He gasped, struggling to fill his lungs with air and slow his racing heart. Instead, the movement caused a sharp pain to erupt in his head. Jak groaned and placed a hand on the base of his skull before he dared an attempt at sitting up.

Feeling slightly nauseated, Jak was about to lie back down when he noticed his surroundings.

He was sitting on a cold metal bridge suspended over streets so dark they reminded him of the tunnels in the Spider Caves. The only sunlight available was veiled by a haze of smog, something he had never seen before, and fell almost entirely on the bridge. The area below was lit by odd red lights that cast an eerie glow. The air was stale and windless and smelled of filth so odorous he imagined he could feel it seeping into his skin. There were no plants, no animals – no entity of the natural world. Everything was made of metal – not the warm bronze metal of the Precursors, but a cold blue metal that made Jak shiver involuntarily.

Forgetting the pain in his head, Jak stood up and stared around in awe. He did a double take when he saw the zoomers flying below him.

They looked nothing like Keira's A-grav and were silent by comparison. Where the A-grav was bulky these were sleek, where the A-grav handled poorly these were agile and fast. Even the two-passenger zoomers' capabilities dwarfed Sandover's limited technology. The people were a whole other story.

Men and women alike wore outlandish clothing, and Jak only saw boots, never sandals. However, the biggest change between these people and the inhabitants of Sandover was their apparent state of mind. Everyone he saw looked guarded and tired, quite unlike the friendly, happy people he was used to. Many of them weren't clothed well enough or were dirty, and all of them looked quietly miserable.

They were the very picture of defeat.

As such, Jak easily noticed the ones who the people shied away from. Men in red armor and helmets walked among the scared citizens with overconfidence and a distinguished air of brutality. Some were on foot, some rode zoomers, and all carried guns.

Where in the name of the sages was he?

Daxter groaned loudly at Jak's feet. Looking down, he saw his friend clutching onto a safety bar from the machine. Daxter shakily stood up, gave a cursory glance at his surroundings, glared at the safety bar, and promptly threw it on the ground as hard as his tiny arms could manage.

"Okay, I swear that's the last time I ever – EVER – touch any stupid Precursor crap!"

The infuriated ottsel was about to let loose a string of curses when he noticed an approaching group of the red-armored soldiers. Jak's eyes immediately fell to the leader. Clad in a black and yellow bodysuit, a red breast-plate, and shoulder pads, he reminded Jak of a wumpbee. Fiery orange, spiky hair was partially obscured by a pulled up mask, and the man's face and ears were covered in bluish-gray tattoos. He walked with an arrogant swagger and his eyes gleamed an iniquitous gold. The man looked as hard and cruel as a lurker shark.

Jak disliked him instantly.

The man smirked triumphantly. "There he is. Move in."

The soldiers responded like dogs obeying a master's command and surrounded the pair. "Step away from the animal!"

"YAAAAAH!" Daxter darted between the man's legs and disappeared from view. A soldier raised his gun to shoot the fleeing ottsel when the leader held up an authoritative hand.

"Forget the rat. The Baron wants him!" The man's tone of voice made the back of Jak's neck prickle. Jak looked fearfully around the circle and was considering running after Daxter. The man smiled wickedly.

"We've been waiting for you."

One of the soldiers raised his gun and brought it down on Jak's head with considerable force.

His knees buckled and he again fell to the hard ground. He barely heard Daxter's voice, "Don't worry, Jak! I'll save you before you know it!" and everything went black.

* * *

Keira could only notice two things: the ground felt like stone and everything hurt. 

Groaning, she opened an eye and immediately regretted it. A blinding pain burst out from a point on the back of her head, and she raised a hand to feel the spot. A large bump protruded beneath her hair, and it hurt to the touch. _Just what I need, _she thought, _a hefty goose egg_.

She dared to open her eyes again, very slowly, and gasped. She quickly sat up and whipped her head around, heedless of the pain.

Keira lay amongst bags and barrels of foul-smelling trash in a dark alley. She wasn't in Sandover.

"The Precursor ring!" She suddenly remembered and pushed back against the wall until she was standing. Moving on shaky legs, Keira ran as best she could out of the alley and into a broad street. A canal ran through its center and people in strange clothes walked about. She couldn't see any plants, an unsettling sight for the daughter of the Sage of Green Eco. Wide-eyed, she looked skyward and didn't see a clear sky but a polluted one. She vaguely noted it was around sunset and wondered how long she had been unconscious.

Keira turned to look west and her eyes somehow managed to widen a touch more.

The day's remaining light was blocked by an enormous structure that appeared to be balancing like a top. Several support cables radiated out from the behemoth like a spider web and disappeared behind the buildings surrounding Keira. It was so astoundingly tall, she thought it was touching the very sky.

Keira tore her awed gaze from the mammoth structure and glanced frantically around. She saw no friendly faces. And then she remembered.

_The others!_

Keira was about to call out their names when she noticed the strange looks she was getting. She looked down at herself and saw she was filthy, courtesy of the trash heap she woke up in. She also looked around at everything so blatantly astonished a few moments before that the people must think she was crazy. After all, what could be so strange about the city they clearly lived in?

Realizing prudence was wisest, Keira took several deep breaths with her eyes closed and calmed her panicky nerves. When she finished, a resolved expression graced her features, and she set out at a steady pace to find her friends and figure out where she was.

In the process, Keira noticed the zoomers.

Her hands twitched, impatient to examine the remarkable machines. How did they fly without a propeller? How were the engines designed? How could they hover fifteen feet off the ground? Her inner mechanic buzzed with questions, elated by the mere sight of zoomers more advanced than her old A-grav.

It wasn't long before night fell, but Keira almost felt like it was still day due to how brightly the streets were lit. Light of all colors poured from windows, streetlamps, and signs. She had never seen anything like a glowing sign before.

After what seemed an eternity of fruitless searching, Keira arrived at a dead end. There was a huge gap in the street, but the space was split in half by a glowing, transclucent blue wall. Squinting at it, Keira could see it quiver slightly. If such a thing as living light existed, she would believe that was it.

She walked up for a closer look, and was about ten feet from the wall when a man completely covered in red armor stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Security pass."

She stared at him blankly.

"What?"

"I need to see a security pass."

She realized it was for the wall.

"But I don't have one."

The soldier replied by promptly shoving her, sending her flying five feet before she hit the ground. Keira yelped in response and looked back at the soldier incredulously. He had already turned and walked back to the wall. His message was clear.

Grumbling, Keira stood up and dusted herself off and saw a small amount of blood on her legs. She had scraped her knees.

Wiping it off with a swipe of her hand, Keira scowled and left the wall behind.

She wandered around for another hour or so and was getting rather hungry. There was still no sign of Samos, Daxter, or Jak.

She was starting to get worried.

After a few minutes more, Keira stopped walking. Had she heard something? Lightly shaking her head, she continued on but soon halted again. Despite the fact that she was standing in the middle of a crowded street, she could hear footsteps stopping and going almost in time with hers. Keira started walking again at a faster pace. Sure enough, the footsteps were keeping up with her. Looking over her shoulder, Keira at first only saw random people walking to and fro, but she soon caught sight of a leering face about ten feet behind her.

The man was staring at her like a hunter would its prey.

Keira broke into an all-out run.

The footsteps matched her pace, and panic gripped her heart like an icy hand. She ran faster.

The footsteps got closer.

Suddenly, she felt hard fingers clamp around her wrist, dragging her down. Keira screamed and pulling with all her might loosened the man's grip. She slammed her elbow back and up with all the force she could muster, making contact with his chin. A sickening crack followed, and the man released her wrist entirely.

Keira didn't wait long enough to hear him fall to the ground in a crumpled heap.

All she could do was run and run until her lungs cried out for air.

Panting and covered in sweat, her legs burning from the exertion, she slowed her pace and caught sight of a large ventilation pipe sticking out of the ground in an L-shape before running into a building. She darted behind it and collapsed, sobbing.

"Jak–"

She cried behind the pipe in the strange street with a canal running through its center, terrified of this foreign world where Jak was not by her side.

For the first time in her life Keira was alone.

* * *

...and our heroes are plunged into darkness and despair! DUN DUN DUNNNN! 

i have to admit, i have no clue where i'm taking this. i still can't decide how i'm going to portray either jak or keira's struggles over the next two years and be original about it, but i'm getting a vague idea.

please review!


	3. Welcome to Haven

good god! i submit the first two chapters within days of each other and then i take three weeks for the third! life has been so freaking busy i've just been forced to write whenever i've had the time, which has been virtually never thanks to a ten-page research paper, among other things.

there's also the fact that this is an ENORMOUS chapter. it's almost double the length of the previous ones and contains a ton of tedious set-up, which i don't think i did a very good job of. even so, i'm sick of tinkering with it and i don't think i can do anything else, so i'm just submitting as is.

so now keira's path is made clear, at least partially, and i hope it's remotely original. i probably don't spend enough time with jak, but there's not as much going on with him during prison, or so i keep telling myself.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Welcome to Haven**

Keira's stomach growled loudly, and she wondered when she last ate. Twenty-four hours at the least.

Twenty-four hours in this god-forsaken city.

Keira had woken up that morning still behind the pipe. Remembering her near-rape experience the previous night, she nearly started crying again and stayed where she was for a long time before she worked up the courage to get up. When she finally did, her entire body ached painfully and her muscles felt so stiff it had been difficult to walk at first.

She had wandered around aimlessly for several hours now, and in the process discovered that she was isolated to the "Business District", as people seemed to call it. Apparently this city was big enough to even _have_ districts, each with their own distinct atmosphere and look, and they were all separated by force fields like the blue wall which required security passes.

Her belly gurgled, refusing to forget its currently empty state. Sighing deeply, Keira went in search of food.

Not far off, she found a bakery occupying a small storefront. She noticed a sign in the window that read _The Finest Baked Goods in Haven City! _

Keira's heart fell as she stared at the sign. She had never heard of Haven City.

She forgot her sadness when her nostrils picked up the smell of freshly baked bread, causing her mouth to water. Keira quickly went inside.

The bakery was just big enough to hold a display case counter and no more than two or three customers. The shopkeeper quickly glanced her direction and frowned before curtly nodding. Keira scowled back, wondering why everyone in this city was so rude, when she remembered how filthy she was and realized she must look like trouble in a neat little shop like this.

Firmly setting her jaw, Keira calmly walked up to the display case and surveyed its wares. Deciding on a good-sized loaf of bread, she pointed at it. "I'd like one of those please."

The woman raised an eyebrow but went to retrieve the indicated item and put it in a bag. She then promptly turned to Keira and held out her hand. "That'll be three credits."

Keira stared at the shopkeeper blankly, realizing she had no money. Chewing on her lip, Keira reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out several Precursor orbs.

Placing them in the shopkeeper's hand, she asked, "Will this be enough?"

The woman stared at the orbs, wide-eyed, and blinked several times. She then looked at Keira, apparently flabbergasted. Keira shuffled her feet, starting to feel uncomfortable. The movement seemed to bring the shopkeeper back to her senses because she speedily tucked the orbs into her pocket saying, "Oh, yes that will do nicely! Thank you so much, your patronage is appreciated," and handed Keira the loaf.

She was still spewing words of gratitude when Keira went out the door.

Keira walked several paces and stopped to stare down at her bread. _What in the name of the Precursors was _that _about?_

After getting out of sight of the bakery, Keira crossed the busy street to the canal and turned to lean against the balcony. She swiftly pulled out her loaf, ripped off a chunk, and took a bite. Closing her eyes to savor the taste, she sighed happily at how warm the bread was. Slowly chewing and swallowing, she steadily worked her way through the entire loaf.

Patting her full belly contentedly, Keira was about to set out again when she noticed another storefront. It was a tool shop.

Her interest peaked, Keira entered the shop and stared at her surroundings. Everywhere she looked there were engine parts, hoods, metal plating, and tools. She smiled joyfully and quickly moved around the store to examine anything she could get her hands on. She audibly oohed and aahed over nearly everything she saw, fascinated by her first real glimpse at this city's technology.

She was like a kid in a candy store.

Suddenly, Keira could hear muffled shouting. Looking up, she saw a door behind the counter leading to a back room. She moved closer trying to hear. She couldn't pick up anything that was said, but there were clearly two people, one male and one female. She didn't need to try and eavesdrop any longer when the pair entered the main part of the store in an angry bustle of accusations and curses.

"–needs you anyway?!" The woman was the first to appear.

"Every damn person in the racing business, that's who! How the hell do you think you can make it without me supplyin', huh? You're lucky I even sell to you at all!" A balding man, obviously the manager of the shop, soon followed her out, gesticulating wildly.

"I can make it, no problem. I don't need any parts or mechanics from a fucking sexist pig like you!" Keira's interest in the argument doubled.

The man's face was bright red, and a vein was popping out of his neck. "I wouldn't give you one of my mechanics if you got on your goddamn knees and begged me!"

"Good! Yours probably suck anyway!" the woman rushed past Keira and out the door. "Have a nice life, jackass!"

Keira glanced from the door to the manager, and he glared at her like everything was all her fault. She turned and left, hoping she could catch the woman.

Keira caught sight of her leaning against a zoomer, scowling deeply. She was a tall woman, slender and voluptuous. She wore a black miniskirt and a white tube top, both of which accented her curves to the fullest. More interesting to Keira was the weathered blue jacket she wore. It was covered in faded patches featuring garage logos, sponsors, and championship titles. Long, wavy black hair fell freely to her waist, and she carried herself with an air of righteousness and confidence. Keira immediately felt both drawn and intimidated.

"Um… excuse me?" The woman turned and glared at Keira, a piercing blue stare that spoke of a deep-seated and fierce independence. Keira barely refrained from visibly reacting when she saw that her ears were missing triangular chunks of flesh. Lined in slightly ragged, white scar tissue, the absent pieces enhanced her already formidable appearance. Keira struggled to keep from openly gaping and stumbled despite herself, "I, uh… I couldn't help but overhear back in there, so I was wondering if you could hire me," the woman stared at her blankly. Keira swallowed and continued, "as a mechanic."

The woman narrowed her eyes at Keira and looked her up and down.

"No." she said simply, and got on her zoomer.

"Why not?"

"Your arms are as thin as pocky sticks. With a build that tiny you'd burn out faster than a metal head fart."

She reached to turn the key, but Keira, giving only brief consideration to what pocky sticks and metal heads were, persisted, "Just because I'm small it doesn't mean I can't work hard. I've got years of experience with mechanics."

The woman turned to look at her again, a slightly disdainful expression on her sharp face, "the last thing I need is some street-walker stinking up my garage."

Before Keira could say anything else, the woman had punched the ignition and zoomed off like a shot.

Keira let loose an enormous sigh. _So much for that job interview_.

With nothing left to do, Keira returned to the tool shop and browsed for awhile. She discovered a display containing tons of thin books that were made only of paper. But the paper wasn't like any paper she had seen. It was very thin, shiny, and flimsy, and she soon learned from experience that it tore very easily. The books were all very colorful, and upon flipping through one Keira discovered they were brimming with big, dramatic pictures and articles.

Looking to the top of the display, Keira saw a label that read _Magazines_.

Curious, she looked through the one she held more closely and read some of its contents, most of which was information on racing and mechanics. Two hours later, she had devoured half of the rack and her knees hurt from standing for so long.

Keira decided on four different magazines, one of which she had read and found very informative, and took them up to the counter. The manager glared at her and opened his mouth to say something when she removed a single Precursor orb from her pouch. He immediately clamped his jaw shut, silently took the orb, and put the magazines in a bag.

Keira smiled charmingly at him and strutted out of the store. Evidently, Precursor orbs were quite valuable in this place.

Keira wandered around the Business District some more, amazed by how huge it was. And to think it was just one section of the city! The overall size of this strange place was unfathomable to her. Keira eventually found a large pipe to sit on and sat down to her enjoy her purchases. Luckily, her A-grav had provided her with sufficient knowledge to at least vaguely comprehend this place's mechanics, and Keira soon understood a great deal about both regular and racing zoomers and how they work.

After several more hours of blissfully ignorant discovery, Keira had finished learning all the information to be gleaned from the magazines. Looking up, she noticed it was twilight. She stood up and felt a tinge of worry now that she was faced with the challenge of finding a safe place to stay for the night. However, she was soon distracted when she noticed the streets were even busier than usual and that all the people appeared to be going the same direction.

They looked excited, and those who were in groups chattered amongst themselves animatedly. Wondering what their destination was, Keira decided to follow.

As they progressed through the winding streets the sky darkened to an inky black, and the air felt just a bit cooler. Keira shivered involuntarily and noticed there were large posters in this area, all depicting men in strange suits, zoomers, and racing titles. The people pressed in closer around her, and she saw it was because the road ahead narrowed and turned right under an arch into a high-walled bottleneck that was plastered in more posters. Keira looked above the wall and noticed that the night sky was repelled by a bright glow from beyond. She entered the high-walled area and felt a ripple of anticipation run through the crowd. Straining to see around the corner, Keira gasped when the bottleneck abruptly opened to the left revealing a sight unlike any she had ever seen.

An enormous courtyard dotted by fountains and – to Keira's joy – gardens stretched out before her. It was the first greenery she had seen and she eagerly pushed down the steps and through the crowd to an octagonal platform out of which rose a tall tree. The platform sat atop a small green hill and Keira sighed happily as soon as her sandaled feet made contact with the soft grass. Quickly reaching the platform, which stood chest-high, she looked in and saw a bed of pink flowers. She reached in and carefully stroked a delicate petal, elated. Keira dipped her face into the flowers and inhaled deeply.

Finally, here was the scent and caress of the natural world. It felt like a small piece of home, and Keira felt immediately restored.

She reluctantly turned from the garden and noticed the first fountain she had seen served as the pedestal for an enormous statue. Keira slowly walked up to it, guessing it could easily stand forty feet tall. It was of a proud warrior resting on his sword, and Keira felt somehow awed by the statue's presence. Turning around, she saw there were two more statues, all with bowls sprouting fire behind them. They seemed to her silent sentinels, guarding the many broad stairs that led up to an enormous building.

Keira did a double-take once the sight of the structure registered, and she backed up to survey it. The building was in an overall domed shape, and enormous lights rested on the ends of curving spires that jutted out from it. They were so huge their weight had to be counter-balanced by enormous spike-like poles connected to them by support cables. Shorter pieces similar to the poles followed the dome curve between the lights and held up wide strips of orange material. The mobs of people all gravitated up the steps into the enormous building and Keira felt drawn to do the same, wondering what the purpose of such a place could possibly be.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted when someone bodily shoved her with his shoulder. She glared after him, rubbing her arm, and was about to yell out a boiling retort before she thought better of it.

She grumbled to herself, wondering what was wrong with everyone in this city, when a pair of red boots appeared before her. Looking up, Keira saw a red helmet. Eyes widening, she began to turn and walk away when the soldier roughly grabbed her arm.

"What's wrong with you? What did I do??"

She could tell he was taking in her still filthy appearance. "What's the likes of you doing on the West Side?" Keira got the strange feeling the soldier was smiling at her. She instinctively took a step back, and the soldier tightened his grip in response causing her to cry out in pain. "Ow! Let go of me!!"

"You're coming with me."

Suddenly, she felt a protective arm around her shoulders, and the soldier released her. She heard a musical voice. "So there you are!" Keira turned and was confronted by a pair of warm gold eyes. Soft lips briefly brushed her cheek, "I've been looking everywhere for you, honey." The voice spoke to the soldier, "Thanks _so_ much for finding my wife. She's always getting lost." Keira could feel herself being led away from the soldier towards the stadium steps.

The man walked her halfway up before stopping and turning to face her. He had unruly chestnut hair that fell over his laughing eyes. He had high cheekbones, accented by slightly angular features yet contradicted by a wide mouth that seemed made for grinning. He stood a good head taller than her and was incredibly handsome.

"Sorry for being so familiar," he was still smiling and talking in that singsong voice, "but it was the only way to get you away from that soldier. Shouldn't an East Side girl like you know how to deal with the KG?"

She stared at him, confused, "KG?"

He frowned at her slightly. "KG. The Krimzon Guard." Keira continued to look at him blankly and he went on, "Don't you know what I'm talking about? You are from the Slums aren't you?"

She shook her head. "I'm from Sandover Village. I've never even heard of the Slums."

He raised an eyebrow. "Did you get hit on the head?"

"No, I'm not from here! I don't even know where here is!" Keira could feel tears welling up and she blinked furiously to try and keep them from falling. The man looked very surprised and glanced around several times before again putting his arm around her shoulder and leading her the rest of the way up the stairs and through one of the archways.

He looked at her as they walked, an apologetic glint clouding his laughing eyes. "How about you just relax and watch the race? I can get you the best seats in the house," he led her past a ticket booth, up a flight of stairs, and out into the hollow body of the building. Keira gasped at the sight. Rows upon rows of seats circled around an ovular walled area, almost completely full of screaming people. The walled area contained a track of sorts, and it reminded Keira of a narrower, metal version of the Precursor Basin race course.

The man stopped and gestured at a front-row seat. Keira sat down, grateful to not be standing anymore, and looked up at him slightly confused.

He smiled at her. "You just sit back, relax, and enjoy the race. I'll find you afterwards." And with that he turned on his heel and walked away.

Keira blinked after him. _Maybe not_ everyone_ in this city is so bad…_

Over the next five minutes, the seats around her were all filled and the people were growing even more rowdy. It was like a bigger, noisier version of the Warrior's Arena in Rock Village. She looked around anxiously, not feeling entirely comfortable in this strange environment, when a loudspeaker boomed out, "Ladies and gentlemen, the race is about to begin!"

Several people pointed and the roar of the crowd was deafening. Following people's stares, Keira looked down onto the track and saw zoomers being lowered from platforms above into a ready position. A huge screen across the building from Keira lit up with the racer's profiles, and she gasped when she saw one of them was the man who had helped her. His name was Crys Ryker, and she immediately thought it sounded like a hotshot name. His picture smiled dashingly at her from the screen, and a subtitle indicated he was the racing favorite. No wonder he'd been able to get her away from the krimzon guard.

A hovering machine with four lights on it appeared in front of the racers and Keira felt a ripple of anticipation travel through her body.

The lights lit up, one at a time, and the racers were off.

Keira was completely enthralled over the next five minutes. Here was the application of all that she had read in the magazines earlier, and the results were astounding. The zoomers were so incredibly fast they flitted in and out of Keira's view on the track like fireflies in the night. She was barely able to keep up with Ryker's zoomer. The crowd's enthusiasm was infectious, and she was soon on the edge of her seat cheering. The racers were brutal and took every opportunity to play dirty. The noise intensified when a racer was grinding with another and given no choice but to go flying into a gaping black hole in the track. Two other racers were pushed off the track in the big room and exploded after hitting a pillar. The crowd was going wild.

Soon it was the last lap, and with only half of the original racers still on the track, Ryker was in the lead. He easily boosted his way to the finish line and earned a standing ovation. Keira, overtaken by the moment, stood up and screamed a victory cry.

She had never seen anything so dishonorable in her life. She absolutely loved it.

Soon people began trickling out of the stadium, and Keira walked out and leaned against one of the arches. She soon saw one of the racers walk out from the other end of the arched area. Curious, she went to explore.

As soon as the arches ended there were large, thick sliding doors numbered in yellow paint. The second door was open, and the inside was littered with tools and parts and had some zoomers propped up on work tables. An old sign hung above a storage unit. _Axle's Garage_.

Keira decided to take a closer look.

Immediately after crossing the threshold, she saw Ryker on the far side of the room, absently examining an old poster. He heard her enter and turned. His face broke into a broad grin when he saw her.

"So, did you enjoy the race?"

She nodded, feeling strangely shy for some reason. "Yeah. I don't know if I've ever watched anything that exciting."

Ryker opened his mouth to respond when a female voice sounded from a flight of stairs that curved into the wall. Keira's green eyes widened when the woman who stepped into view turned out to be the same one from the tool shop. She was flipping through a notebook.

"Okay, Ryker, good job. If you can keep that up we might make it to the Class Ra–" The woman looked up and, noticing Keira for the first time, stopped mid-sentence. Her blue eyes clouded over, dangerously.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Ryker looked at the woman, surprised. "You know her, Viv?"

She paid no attention to his comment but continued staring stonily at Keira. "And I suppose you still want a job."

Despite how nervous she felt, Keira raised her head up high and replied with a simple, "Yes."

Ryker smiled at her, elated. "You're a mechanic?"

"I told you I don't want to hire some streetwalker."

Keira's green eyes suddenly darkened and she stomped up to the woman. "Look, lady, I haven't exactly had a good two days. I slept behind a damn pipe last night and I need a place to stay," Keira was surprised by the forcefulness of her voice as she got right up in the woman's face, "To top it off, I'm hungry and in desperate need of a shower. So I'd thank you to get off your high-horse and give me job!"

The woman stared levelly back at Keira before – to Keira's utter bewilderment – she began chuckling, a low and silky sound. "You're persistent. I like that."

The woman shook her head, still smiling, and walked up to one of the tables holding a zoomer. "The engine won't start. Fix it." She placed her hands on her hips expectantly.

Keira stared at the zoomer and swallowed before walking up to the table and beginning. First thing's first, she needed to find the engine hood. After only a few seconds of looking the machine over, she thankfully found it and got it open. From then on, she was perfectly at home. She felt like she was working in her old lab during the five minutes it took her to do the job, and thanks to the magazines she read earlier Keira had no trouble whatsoever fixing the zoomer.

Upon completion, she reached up to hit the ignition, and the engine roared to life.

The woman nodded at Keira approvingly. "I'm impressed. Our old mechanic would've taken fifteen minutes at least." She rubbed her chin and donned a thoughtful expression.

Ryker took the opportunity to speak to Keira. "Such a comment from the lofty boss… You know, coming from her she _really_ must be impressed." Keira stared at him, wondering how such a thing was possible when the woman's comment sounded so apathetic, but he just grinned at her, totally sincere. "Well, as you may have noticed earlier, I'm Ryker, the driver for this team. And she's Vivian, the manager of this garage. And you are…?"

"Keira."

Ryker smiled at her again, and warmly shook her hand. Keira felt a blush threaten to creep up over her cheeks.

Vivian looked to Keira again, icy blue eyes calculating. An eyebrow rose, and a corner of her mouth twitched up. She nodded, confirming something to herself as a decisive air possessed her features.

"You're hired."

* * *

A sweet, putrid stench filled Jak's nostrils. He wrinkled his nose, critical of such a smell, before starting awake with a gasp.

He immediately felt a sharp pain in his forehead and noticed he couldn't open his right eye. Remembering the orange-haired man and his arrest, Jak reached up to gingerly touch the spot where the soldier had hit him. Upon contact his flesh clenched painfully tight in protest, and Jak quickly removed his hand and saw a sticky red substance smearing his fingers. He reached up again and probed around the injury. He felt something crusty and realized his eye was sealed shut by dried blood.

Jak struggled for a moment before his eye cracked open and wondered where he was. He was sitting in a dank and dirty cell of sorts with a cheap, flickering light fixture in the ceiling. The only window to the outside was high up on a thoroughly fortified metal door and crossed in bars. There were two beds – well no, more like slabs – opposite each other against the walls, and then Jak gasped in horror.

The bed furthest from Jak was occupied by a rotting corpse.

Flies buzzed around the mutilated flesh, adding to the abhorrent smell that saturated the air. The face was almost unrecognizable, and most of the ears were gone entirely, looking as though they had simply been blown away. A few soiled rags that were once clothes sparsely shrouded the figure, giving it a strangely mummified appearance. All the wounds were coated in black liquid, and a hand flopped over the edge of the bed, revealing small patches of white bone.

Jak wanted to scream.

He scrambled onto the opposite bed, trying to put as much distance between himself and the cadaver as possible. Placing his chin on his knees, Jak stared at it, wide-eyed, for an hour or more before he heard footsteps outside. Looking up, he watched as several of the red-armored soldiers entered and placed the corpse in a body bag.

"Whew! What a stench on that one!"

"How long has it been here?"

"Just yesterday, I think."

"Who cares. Let's just get it out of here."

And they took it away, slamming the door shut. Jak heard their voices echoing away from his cell, saying this was another failure and how everything might be shut down within the year.

His eyes returned to stare at the spot where the corpse had lain.

He jumped several inches into the air when he saw a strange substance pooled in an impression of the body. Black as pitch, it glinted violet in the flickering light, and he realized it was the same liquid that covered the corpse.

Dark eco.

Jak's breath caught in his throat. _What is this place??_ He felt a completely foreign emotion clutch his body like ice, heightening every sense to a sharp and painful awareness.

He immediately tried to think of Samos, Daxter, and Keira – especially Keira. He tried to imagine her in front of him, laughing and animated, excitedly talking about this and that. He tried to imagine her working on the A-grav, bright with creation. He tried to imagine her under his arm, green eyes wide with uncertainty and want, her skin shining in the glow of the light eco crystal.

He desperately struggled to hold onto memories of her, like she was a light that would save him from the darkness.

And for the first time in his entire life, Jak knew what fear was.

* * *

hehe, haven has pocky sticks! 

pretty stupid chapter. i'm never really fond of when OC's are introduced because they're usually flat and dull or just seem out of place. i hope i'm not following the general mold with vivian and ryker, but i suppose you'll have to tell me. i might very well update and mess around more with this chapter because, as i've said, i'm not happy with it. at the very least i figure the next one's gotta be better than this, and it shouldn't take me so long to crank it out next time.


	4. Further From You

alright, another chapter finally turned out! i tell ya, this one was flat out painful to write. it took me weeks to even get past the third paragraph, but i finally got it flowing in the last two days. 

grr! this inability to post links is really starting to bug me! well, i was gonna post a link that would take you to a picture of my designs for the ocs, but since i can't i'll have to do it the hard way. there's this site called deviantart. it's one of those places where you type a dot com afterwards. if you first type in my username, which is iamymai, followed by a dot followed by deviantart etc., you should get to my page. first off, go to scraps, and the first thing in there should be a pencil sketch of the ocs and keira's new outfit. and just for the hell of it, go to my gallery as well and check out the totally kick-ass pic i did of dark jak yesterday! hopefully, that explanation made a certain amount of sense...

so, here's a chapter with way too much crappy dialogue, taking place six months after the previous one. do enjoy!

update: fixed a typo, reworked a coupla sentences, and i decided i'm not changing keira's costume... but i'm so freaking indecisive i might change my mind again.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Further From You**

Keira awoke with a start, gasping up out of her nightmares. She sat up and shook her head in an effort to clear it. Glancing at a clock on the wall, Keira sighed loudly when she saw it was five thirty in the morning. Lately she hadn't been able to sleep past six, a terrible thing for one who's the antithesis of a morning person. Resigned to her internal clock, she got up to get dressed.

The past six months had blown by in a blur of work, racing, and adjustment. Vivian put Keira to work as soon as the words "you're hired" escaped her lips, fixing engines, waxing zoomers, and completing several odd jobs around the garage that had nothing to do with mechanics. Her routine of sleep, work, eat, work was periodically interrupted by one of Ryker's races, and this was always when Keira most enjoyed herself.

Her food and bed were provided. Of course the food was cheap and prepared by sticking it into a small, oven-like box, and Keira slept on a lumpy, old couch, but she wasn't complaining. She was paid in Haven City credits, with room and board deducted, and she rather liked the people she was living with.

Vivian was an extremely proud woman, largely because the Axle of _Axle's Garage_ was her father. He had been one of the top managers in the business and Vivian had quite effectively carried on his legacy. That was actually why the owner of the tool shop had hated her so much. She was successful and female, an ostensibly diametrically opposed match when it comes to racing. Many of the big names' manly egos were threatened by Vivian, making her all the more charismatic to Keira. She had never met such a woman.

Vivian not only wasted no time in putting her to work but didn't hesitate to take Keira under her wing. Vivian gave her a place to stay and helped her adjust to Haven no questions asked, although it seemed the woman had been testing her those first few weeks. Despite the fact that the manager always maintained an aloof exterior, Keira soon felt she and Vivian were close as sisters.

Ryker, on the other hand, wasn't exactly what Keira would call a brother. Indeed, he would flirt with her constantly but always with a certain subtlety that made it difficult for Keira to recognize it as anything other than normal, friendly dialogue.

Although he didn't live in the garage he still spent a great deal of time there, and he never failed to strike up a conversation with her. She always enjoyed talking with him and in the process learned plenty about the ins and outs of the city as well as all the latest dirt on Baron Praxis, Haven's totalitarian dictator, and the Krimzon Guard.

He sometimes took her out of the garage to go to some such tool shop or ooh and ah over the latest zoomer model. It was in this way that she first went out of the Business District and began exploring the rest of Haven. She was generally unimpressed with the city's standard of living, but she was appalled by the state of the East Side slums. The mere notion that a ruler would let his people fall to such a level of poverty bred in her a deep hatred of Praxis.

At times like these, when Ryker took Keira to the slums, she saw a glimpse of a very different man. He wouldn't be his usual friendly self but a hardened, faraway person she didn't know, and he would see her righteous anger and nod in quiet understanding.

Once whatever they had come for was done with, Ryker would take her back to the West Side to grab a bite to eat from a vendor in the Bazaar or a café in the Business District, and he would return to his usual, charming self.

One part of Keira loved it when Ryker showered her with attention. Everything he said seemed to be laced in an irresistible mischief, and his eyes always twinkled when they fell upon her. She couldn't deny she was flattered or that she found him attractive as well.

Another part of her hated it.

Keira quickly dressed and glanced at the clock again. It was only five thirty-four. She glared up at the ceiling. Vivian owned the apartment above the garage and was undoubtedly, in Keira's mind, enjoying the peaceful embrace of a deep sleep.

For lack of anything better to do, Keira set about finding some food.

* * *

"Working hard I see." 

Keira looked up from an engine and saw Ryker standing in the door of the garage.

She nodded and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "Certainly harder than you. Where've you been? Vivian's gonna be pissed you're late."

Ryker sauntered up to her, quite at ease. "Now, Keira, how could you accuse me of such a thing as slacking? After all the agonizing hours of training and maintaining my skills –"

"Yeah, uh-huh, I'm just dripping with sympathy." She held up her hands to demonstrate, and Ryker flashed her a rather devastating smile, a bad habit of his. Keira bent back to her work in an effort to hide a blush and asked, "Really, where were you? You should've been here practicing for the big qualifier."

Upon hearing a loud clunk, Keira looked down at the table and saw a brand new handgun. She glanced up at Ryker, one eyebrow raised in question.

"I was buying this for you."

She looked at the weapon again. "Why would you get me a gun?"

He winked at her in answer. "So I'll have an excuse to take you out shooting."

She grinned at him and picked up the firearm, turning it around in her hands. "I don't know the first thing about it," she saluted him with the gun, "Good luck to you."

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. "Keira! I need your assistance."

"What can I do for you, Viv?"

Said woman walked into view and stopped on the second to bottom stair, resting her forearm on the ceiling above. "I'm headed out on an errand, and you should come along." She glanced first at Ryker and then the shining weapon in Keira's hand and glared at a hanging light fixture in exasperation. "Good god, Ryker, you're late because you were buying a damn gun?"

He shrugged, "It may've contributed, but that isn't why I'm late."

She looked at him sharply, "Then why, pray tell, are you?"

His golden eyes met her blue ones. "We'll have to talk about it later." Ryker's face, although outwardly calm, held an expression of urgency and an emotion Keira couldn't identify. Vivian's eyes widened for a brief moment before she descended the last two stairs. She simply nodded at Ryker and said to Keira, "Come on, I've got a schedule to meet."

She turned to follow Vivian when Ryker got her attention. "So can you join me for a little shooting practice on Saturday?"

Keira cast her gaze to the floor and wondered why she felt like a shy schoolgirl. "Sure."

She was happy when she and Vivian piled into a green zoomer and drove away from the stadium.

"Where are we going?" Keira yelled over the roar of the engine.

"The Industrial District. There's a potential supplier at the port." Vivian smiled wickedly. She was a talented driver and greatly enjoyed speeding through the city streets as fast as possible. Keira had never seen a passenger zoomer go so fast.

"What happened to Holden?" Keira grabbed a fistful of her hair to try and keep it from blowing in her face and groped for a support handle beside her seat as Vivian whipped around a tight corner.

"The usual. The combination of Ryker's success and our double X chromosomes was too much for the bastard to handle." Vivian scowled darkly.

"Well, at least you've got a new guy."

Vivian shook her head. "I'm not so sure. From all I've heard this one's real shady, but I'm running out of options."

It wasn't long before Keira's nostrils were assaulted by a foul smell, heralding the approaching port. After rounding another corner, the scummy waters and cargo transports of the Industrial section were in sight. The city sewage pipes all led to the port, and Keira wondered what sort of supplier would be located in such an area.

Shortly after flying out over the water to avoid traffic, Keira noticed they were headed in a beeline for an enormous pig statue. A sign beneath the figurehead read _Hip Hog Heaven Saloon_. Keira blinked a few times, wondering why on earth any restaurateur thought a scheme like that could attract customers.

Vivian switched hover zones right in front of the establishment and parked the zoomer. The pair jumped onto the pavement and strolled through the door. Keira gawked at the interior, somewhat awed. She had never been inside a bar before, and she quickly wondered if all bars looked this seedy.

The Hip Hog was dimly lit and lined in dark booths, all seating sleazy men that leered at Vivian and Keira. The men were shrouded in clouds of smoke and held drinks in grizzled hands. Most of them wore guns on their hips. The booths surrounded a small fight ring, and a whack-a-metal-head game jutted out of the wall to the right of the door. The bar itself sat against the back wall, tended by a buxom blonde woman wiping the counters. Countless metal head trophies and paintings of an extremely obese man hung about the room.

Keira couldn't help but feel incredibly uncomfortable.

She followed Vivian up to the bar where the older woman leaned towards the blonde and said, "I have an appointment with Krew. Where is he?"

The smell of rotting cheese suddenly saturated the air. "Right behind you, Pet."

Keira turned around and struggled to keep from recoiling in revulsion. The man in the paintings loomed before her, and the pictures didn't do him justice. Layers upon layers of stinking fat rolled out from the man's body, straining against the confines of a green suit. His enormous frame was supported by a hover chair, down from which a pair of pitiably small legs dangled. Sausage fingers and shriveled ears were bejeweled in gold rings, and his right eye was coated in the milky film of blindness. The man wheezed like a sick yakow, revealing a smattering of yellow, crooked teeth, and held an incessantly fluttering fan. The stench oozing out from him was enough to send a whole legion of Krimzon Guards running.

Keira wrinkled her nose in disgust as Vivian began speaking. "I've heard you're in the racing business, among other things." She added sarcastically, "Won any big bets lately?"

Krew examined her face. "Mmm, Vivian Ildri, ey? Yes, you have a reputation for being catty. Word is playing with the big boys is getting a little tough lately, heh heh."

Keira angrily rushed to Vivan's defense. "Oh, don't worry. She's more than capable of handling any stud around."

Krew noticed Keira for the first time and chuckled, fluttering his fan excitedly. "Well, aren't you the feisty one? You'd make a quite a waitress. I'm sure my patrons would just _adore _you, ey?"

Keira flushed furiously and was about to retort when Vivian cut in, "So you dabble in supplying?" She pushed Keira into a stool and walked away with Krew.

Keira sulkily turned to the blonde. "So, what is there to drink here?"

The woman smiled. "Anything under the sun that'll burn holes in your throat. Can I get you something?"

Keira sighed. "Whatever's not too harsh, I guess."

The woman nodded and set about preparing a drink. Keira eyed her curiously. "What's it like working in a place like this?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Well, aside from all the butt-pinching and cat-calling it isn't too bad. If things ever get too heavy we have a bouncer." She pointed to a booth in the back left corner of the room, in which sat a big, armored man with dark skin. An enormous gun bearing a metal head trophy over the barrel rested against his seat.

Keira nodded, impressed. "That is one big firearm."

The blonde giggled. "It's a peacemaker. Using an eco accelerating chamber, double-bonded cartridges, and blowback breech assist it fires charged particles of electricity at over 200,000 volts!" She sighed dreamily, "It's the single most destructive weapon on the black market."

Keira stared at the woman, who promptly straightened up and finished making the drink. "Sorry, I've got a thing for weapons." The blonde placed a glass full of clear liquid in front of her. Keira picked up the drink and sniffed it gingerly. Finding it odorless, Keira took a sip and felt a sharp burning sensation run down her esophagus. She coughed and the blonde obligingly thumped her on the back. She had never tasted alcohol before.

Keira looked back up at the woman, eyes red, and said, "I'm not much better. When it comes to mechanics I'm gone."

The blonde beamed at her. "Great! I love it when I meet women with supposedly _male_ passions!" She held out a gloved hand. "I'm Tess, by the way."

Keira smiled back, and shook her hand. "Keira."

Just then, Vivian came back. "Our business here is done. Time to head back and make sure Ryker doesn't hurt himself with that new gun of yours."

Keira nodded and followed Vivian out the door, waving goodbye to Tess.

* * *

A rusty plate slid under a slat in the door, and Jak fell upon the fast hungrily. Months ago, the meal – chunky gruel and dirty water – would've disgusted him, but now he was too hungry to care.

Jak lost count of how many days he had sat in that same prison cell, frequently staring at the same dark eco stain. The most he could do were various exercises such as push-ups and squat jumps, but the majority of his time was spent doing nothing at all.

In these times of inactivity, Jak would think about a number of things – how hungry he was, how miserable it is to never bathe, why the corpse had oozed dark eco, and where Keira, Samos, and Daxter were.

There were times when Jak was overcome by bouts of hysteria. He had no human contact since the krimzon guards had taken the corpse away, and the combination of solitude and inactivity was driving him insane. Jak felt terribly ashamed after his fits. He would scream, he would beat the walls with his fists, and he would cry. Jak had never experienced such violent torrents of emotion. He never felt more pitiful in his life.

Occasionally he heard footsteps echoing in the halls outside his door, and Jak would feel his heart leap for joy at the thought of seeing another face, friend or foe. Maybe, just maybe he would have access to the nurturing and sustenance provided by merely standing in the presence of another human being. But they would always pass on.

Sometimes Jak would hear screams. It was diminished in such a way that it was obviously far away, but so piercing that it seemed the victim was sitting right next to him. The screaming would usually only go on for a minute or two, but it felt like hours before the horrible noise would stop.

On one day like any other, Jak was contemplating the reason for his incarceration when he heard several pairs of feet thumping in the hallway. Ignoring the sound completely, he didn't even look up. Needless to say, he was stunned when he heard the lock clank and the hinges screech. He looked up, wide-eyed, into the metal-plated helmet of a krimzon guard. Several of them walked in and surrounded Jak. One of them gruffly said, "Get up."

When he failed to immediately comply, a guard roughly grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. Jak winced but didn't make a sound.

Encircled by the guards, Jak was lead out of his cell and down a long corridor. It seemed there were hundreds of numbered doors identical to his lining the hallway. It wasn't long before the corridor ended in an arch, and Jak was marched through.

Straining to look over the taller shoulders of the guards, Jak saw he was in a cavernous room lined in cells and catwalks. In the center of the space was a gaping, black pit in the middle of which rose a platform connected to the rest of the room by a bridge. Jak shivered involuntarily when he saw a steel table set on the platform beneath an enormous machine. Two mechanical arms with buzzing instruments for fingers loomed out from the support pillar above, crowning the machine in a devilish halo. The machine itself was shaped like a point-down cone, the tip of which appeared to be withdrawn.

The guards parted to create a little opening in front of the bridge, and Jak saw that two people were standing on the waiting platform. The man who had arrested him stood to the left of the table, grinning maliciously. The other one was a new face. Half a face at least, Jak thought to himself when he saw the right side of the man's head was covered in metal plating and wires. A graying, auburn beard sprouted around his mouth, giving him an oddly regal profile. He wore shining silver armor and a sword hung from his belt. Swathes of red cloth wrapped elaborately about his body, framing a silver abdominal plate depicting a half skull over a sword. The man glared coldly at Jak.

One of the guards roughly shoved him with the butt of a gun, sending him stumbling out onto the bridge. His first view being that of looking down into the pit, Jak almost fell to his knees. It seemed the pit was a bottomless, yawning maw, threatening to suck him in.

Remembering the guns behind him, Jak quickly conquered his vertigo and marched the length of the bridge. Blue eyes becoming fixated on the machine, Jak felt his feet grow leaden, heavier with each step. He kept reminding himself of the guns and the pit and forced himself forward.

The bearded man scowled and gestured at Jak with an open palm. "This is your prime specimen? He's just some punk kid!"

The orange-haired man smiled complacently. "He may be young, Baron Praxis, but my scientists tell me he has great potential. He shows the residual effects of advanced eco channeling."

The Baron glared at the orange-haired man. "Advanced channeling? The best eco channelers all but vanished after the metal heads appeared."

The orange-haired man was undeterred. "Yes, most of them, but a very small population of potentials still exists."

Baron Praxis made a gruff sound. "Exactly. _Potentials_."

"Potential channelers are all we've experimented on so far, Baron."

He grunted again, and nodded at the orange-haired man, who proceeded to manhandle Jak onto the table. Jak instinctually resisted, and succeeded in getting one arm free long enough for his fist to make contact with the orange-haired man's chest, sending him staggering backward. Jak was about to leap off the table when his opponent, having recovered with amazing speed, punched him square in the jaw. The blow stunned him, making the orange-haired man's task quite easy. Jak blinked several times and tasted blood. He tried to reach up and feel his cut lip but found his arms restrained. Looking down at his body, Jak saw cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles. He strained against the metal cuffs but couldn't move. Real fear began to seep into Jak's mind like melting ice. He looked first at the orange-haired man, then the Baron, his breathing becoming heavy.

Baron Praxis looked dispassionately back before saying, "Let's begin, Errol."

The orange-haired man nodded and spoke to, it seemed, thin air. "Initiate Dark Eco Injection Cycle."

A monotone woman's voice responded. "_Initiating Dark Eco Injection Cycle_."

A sinister clanking sounded in the machine above, and Jak's attention snapped to it like a cornered dog. Several consecutive layers, each longer than the previous one, slowly extended out of the machine. The last layer stopped about two feet above Jak's body before a circular cover on its end slid to the side, revealing a claw of sorts. The claw bore three needles, all pointing at Jak's chest. He broke out into a cold sweat, staring wide-eyed at the contraption. The claw slid out from the protective layer another six inches before everything stopped moving.

Jak released the breath he didn't know he was holding, and his racing pulse slowed slightly. Was that all that happened? Did the machine die? His questions were soon answered when a low humming noise vibrated from above. Jak felt his very bones quiver as they resonated with the sound. It slowly built upon itself, rising in intensity until it was a throbbing pitch. Jak was beginning to think he could stand no more when, without warning, the sound shattered and purple rays of dark eco shot out of the needles into his body.

Jak's flesh was exploding. His heart pounded relentlessly, forcing out blood, causing it to viciously pulse through painfully distended veins. Every nerve, every cell was violently stimulated, brutally shuddering against burning skin. Jak screamed in agony. He arched against the restraints, endeavoring to free his arms and legs till his hands and feet were slick with red.

He struggled to escape the eco, to disappear in his mind, go to a place where it couldn't touch him. He tried to think of his friends. He tried to remember the time when Daxter threw rocks at a wumpbee nest and how the angry beasts viciously exacted their revenge on Jak instead. He tried to remember Samos' many doddering lectures about the Precursors and the time he scolded them for going to Misty Island. He tried to remember giving Keira the light eco crystal and kissing her for the very first time.

But the dark eco was inescapable. It devoured his flesh, mind, and soul, dragging him into darkness so complete not even his memories could survive.

* * *

alright, the torture has begun! i'm just gonna say right now there will be none of those retarded errol/jak rape scenes. honestly, i just think that's too out of character. 

the part about sig's gun makes me laugh. it just sounds so wrong!

i'm a total review whore, so humor me!


	5. And the Beat Goes On

the great thing about school being out is i can actually update after just a couple of days. thank god for that! this has been such a friggin' stressful year, and this past week of relaxation has been a dream! i actually would've updated yesterday but something was wrong with the site and my request kept timing out. 

anyway, this chapter has the most random title in the history of ever, and i'm not sure that i like the chapter itself that much. it's my longest and probably most eventful one yet, but i feel like it's kinda boring. i really feel like i'm getting sloppy. this is also the shortest jak segment i've written yet, and i feel like i'm being unjust by not spending more time with him! i did change my mind (who knows how permanently) about keira's costume, and she'll keep the same one she has in the game.

so, on to the most exciting chapter yet (i hope)! i definitely want feedback on this one, so review like there's no tomorrow!

update: i made the jak section longer. it was just too damn short.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**And the Beat Goes On**

Piles of metal, appliances, and parts rose anywhere from three to thirty feet into the air. Hard-packed dirt laced in tire tread impressions shone dully in the afternoon sun, reflecting a small amount of light on the bottom of a sign. The sign, a mere sheet of metal, was connected to chain link fences that encircled the area by a couple of hinges and poles. One of the hinges was so corroded it was barely holding up its end at all, causing the sign to hang lopsided. Mottled in rust, one could barely tell the sign was identifying its charge as a scrap yard. It was an old place for which customers had become a rare commodity, making it the perfect location for illicit activities… which explained the loud report of guns.

It was likely that all the men in the _Hip Hog_ acquired their guns illegally. Only a very few, select citizens were aloud to own weapons of any kind after undergoing a laborious licensing process. If there was even the slightest suspicion that they weren't supporters of the Baron, the licensing process would halt and the person would be blacklisted. Keira was rather happy she never had to put up with such an irritating piece of bureaucracy.

She grinned as she nailed the makeshift target ten times in a row, emptying her cartridge. As it turned out, she was a natural markswoman and achieved an advanced level of skill in under a month. Ryker strolled up, staring at the propped up zoomer hood Keira had just decimated and whistled, impressed.

"Remind me never to buy you anything with potential destructive value again."

Keira turned and batted her eyes at him. "Aww, but I just love things that go boom—"

Ryker raised his eyebrows. "Why do I get the feeling you never would have said that seven months ago?"

"Maybe because I had never even heard of guns before then." She turned back to the zoomer and emptied another cartridge in one fluid and swift movement, only missing twice.

Ryker's face took on an incredulous look as Keira reloaded. "You never heard of guns before you came here? Just where is this Sandover of yours anyway?"

Keira considered the best way to answer the question. She discovered the Rift Gate had sent her five-hundred years into the future towards the end of her first month in Haven City when she noticed the date on a racing magazine. Thankfully she was alone at the time and hadn't needed to explain to explain to Vivian or Ryker why she had an emotional breakdown of sorts. She knew she could never tell anybody.

She hesitated before responding and proceeded to look for a new target. "Far away from here," was her noncommittal answer, and she quickly began shooting again before Ryker could press her further.

It wasn't long before the pair decided to wrap it up and head back to the stadium. They were on a tight time-table after all. Ryker got first place in the qualifier and the first two Class Races, and tomorrow was the Championship. In an effort to keep him relaxed Keira had tried to avoid the subject, but she couldn't help but bring it up on the ride home.

"So, are you nervous about the big race?" She looked at him expectantly, and he gave her a quick glance before shrugging.

"Not exceptionally. I'm more worried about going up against the Champion."

"His name's Errol, isn't it?"

Ryker nodded. "Yeah, and he's one tough bastard. He's commander of the Krimzon Guard and Praxis' right-hand man, and to top it off he's held the title for three years now."

Keira rolled her eyes. "Sounds like a real charmer. Hey, wait—wasn't the KG commander that Torn guy?"

"Didn't you hear? It was all over the place that he deserted a month ago."

Ryker pulled up to the stadium, parking just outside the arches. Keira jumped out and was about to head to the garage when she saw Ryker was still in the zoomer. "Aren't you coming?"

He shook his head, saying, "I've gotta go home and rest up. One of the worst things you can do is train the day before a big race." Judging from the expression on his face, he was more nervous than he let on, trying to mask it with a nonchalant facade.

Keira reached up and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll come out on top just like you always do."

He smiled at her, beaming affection. In a hasty attempt to escape his gaze, Keira turned sideways to fiddle with her hair and was about to leave when a thought occurred to her. "Say, Ryker, how long did it take _you_ to get your firearm license?"

He grinned at her over his shoulder. "I never did."

Keira's expression became confused. "Then how did you get me that gun?"

He looked at her a brief moment before replying, "It's a secret!" He punched the ignition and drove off, leaving a bemused Keira staring after him.

* * *

Jak was smiling at her as he gently placed a hand on her flushed cheek. She let herself drift off and get lost in the shining blue depths of his eyes. The gentle swishing of low tide waves sounded and a warm breeze blew, playing through her green-blue hair and tickling her skin. Jak gave her a look of love so tender she felt her knees melt. He slowly wrapped his arms around her petite frame and leaned in so close she could feel his breath. She closed her eyes in total bliss, sensing the closing gap between their lips. 

The sound of shattering wood and scraping metal split the peace, and she looked to the source of the noise. The rift gate was rotating above them, whirring loudly as the blue sky darkened and the small waves became raging torrents.

Flying creatures swarmed the beach and the horrible monster popped out of the gate and laughed triumphantly. Jak leapt protectively in front of her as the creature yelled in its terrible voice, "You cannot hide from me boy!"

She cried out to Jak to run, but he stood his ground as a great spiked tale came out of the ring. The monster laughed again at Jak's attempt to protect her and swung his tail, disemboweling the boy on the spot.

She screamed and didn't stop. One of the flying creatures swooped down and picked her up, carrying her up to the monster's head. She struggled, screaming as loud as she could.

"KEIRA!"

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped, her pulse pounding. She felt warm hands on her shoulders but she couldn't see. She began resisting again but the hands rubbed her shoulders and the voice spoke again.

"It's alright! It's me."

Keira's eyes focused and she found herself looking at Ryker, still rubbing her shoulders in an effort to soothe her. Looking around, she saw she was on her couch in the garage, Ryker sitting next to her. She glanced up at the clock. It was one in the morning. She blinked, lightly shaking her head, and then looked back to Ryker, confused.

"What are you doing here?"

"I have some business with Vivian."

Keira shook her head again in an effort to dislodge the vestiges of sleep still clinging to her mind. "Did you already talk to her?"

"No," her expression plainly asked why he hadn't gone straight upstairs then, and he answered before she could voice the question, "You were crying out in your sleep."

Keira frowned and rubbed her temples, closing her eyes. "Just had a nightmare I guess."

Ryker went and grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerating unit. He opened it up and brought it over to her.

She smiled slightly and took the water. "Thanks." The two sat in companionable silence for a bit while she drank. "So, what business do you have with ol' Viv at this time of night?"

He simply responded, "That I can't tell you."

Keira looked at him with new interest. "Not a midnight lovers' rendezvous, is it?"

Ryker looked at her sharply. "No."

She continued probing, "So why do you need to see her? You should be resting."

"I said I can't tell you." His tone was slightly harsh, and Keira immediately flared up. "So why is there always something you can't tell me? What's with this little secret club of yours??"

"Keira…"

She ignored him, and her voice rose in volume, "What's so important you can't trust me with it? Do you think I'll go blab about it to the KG? Do you think I'm that damn stupid??"

He roughly grabbed her shoulders again and yelled back, "NO! I don't think you're stupid!" realizing how forceful he was being, Ryker loosened his grip on her shoulders and lowered his voice, "I don't think you're stupid… and I want to trust you."

Keira sarcastically replied, "Sure you do. It's just so obvious, how silly of me fo—"

Her words were muffled when Ryker's lips suddenly locked over hers.

Keira stared at his closed eyes, stunned. His mouth gently moved against hers, careful but insistent, both pressing for a reaction and not.

It felt _good_.

Despite herself, Keira felt her lips respond, returning the kiss. Ryker's arms slid from her shoulders and wrapped around her body, holding her close. Keira was breathless, barely aware of Ryker leaning forward until they were lying down on the couch. She felt his tongue trace her lips, and before she knew what she was doing she parted them, deepening the kiss to an intensely arousing level. His hands began to wander, caressing her body, acquainting her with the pleasure of touch in an entirely new way. She heard herself moan softly against Ryker's lips.

Jak had never touched her like this.

At the thought of the mute, Keira's eyes opened again. It had been seven months and there was no word, no hint, no trace of Samos, Jak, or Daxter. She had every reason to believe she would never see them again. That she would never see Jak again.

Why should she let the past hold her back?

Yet there was a nagging doubt in the back of her mind. Sure, Ryker felt good, but was that enough? The thought stayed stubbornly put, distracting her… just like the weight in her heart she had been trying to ignore ever since she arrived in Haven City.

Keira broke from Ryker, pushing against his chest with a small hand. He looked down at her, his golden eyes glazed over in a myriad of emotions ranging from lust to confusion.

"I can't do this."

A small crease formed in his brow and his eyes cleared slightly. "…Why not?"

She gazed at him with pleading green eyes and answered, "I'm not ready. I can't do this."

Ryker slowly pulled off of her into a sitting position, rested his elbows on his legs, and clasped his hands, his head bowed. He remained silent while Keira sat up and pulled her knees in under her chin.

"Is it—" he hesitated and raised his gaze to hers, his eyes revealing hurt, before continuing, "is it because of Jak?"

Keira froze, eyes wide, and stared at him, shocked. "How—how do you know about Jak?"

He let out a long slow breath and turned to the floor again. "You cried his name over and over again when you were asleep."

Keira looked at her knees, feeling her eyes burn with tears. She blinked in an effort to fight them back and struggled to keep her voice steady. "I… I don't know where he is. I might never find him, and I know I can't hold onto him forever but," she swallowed and closed her eyes tight, leaving her sentence unfinished, "…I'm sorry."

Ryker was silent again. He got up and headed over to the stairwell leading up to Vivian's apartment but paused after his foot hit the first step. He looked back over at Keira with an expression that suggested he was carefully planning his words, but then he shook his head, as if deciding silence was wisest.

And with that he went up the stairs. Keira sat there for a long time before she lay back down on her couch. She wrapped the blanket tightly around her shoulders but didn't close her eyes. Ryker came back down sometime later and walked straight out without pausing. Keira continued to stare into space, her tears still held inside.

* * *

The first thing Vivian saw when she came down the stairs in the late morning was Keira sitting in a chair with her upper half splayed across a table and one arm thrown over her face.

Vivian smiled at the miserable girl. When Ryker came and woke the manager up he looked just as unhappy as Keira did now, and she hadn't needed to ask to know what happened. She already knew from simple observation that Ryker loved Keira—but the girl was hesitant. And the way she always worked with a particular intensity, throwing herself into everything she did, as if she were trying to forget something—or somebody. She chuckled to herself. _Kids these days…_

Keira looked up at the sound, her green eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Her aqua hair was disheveled and she still wore the old t-shirt she slept in.

Vivian was still smiling. "You look terrible."

Keira tiredly glared at the older woman. "Sorry to disappoint you." She let her head drop back to the table with a dull thud.

Unperturbed by getting such a response, Vivian continued, "Come on upstairs. A cup of coffee'll wake you right up." And with that she turned on her heel and ascended the stairs.

Keira grimaced at the staircase, feeling a strong desire to let her right cheek stay plastered on the worktable, but soon decided the benefits of some caffeine outweighed those of staying put. She groggily sat up and headed up to Vivian's apartment.

The apartment was tiny, only housing three rooms: a kitchen and living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom. All three rooms were quite small but cozy in a way that Keira never quite understood in all the times she had been in them. She supposed it was just Vivian's touch.

She sat down at a three-by-three two person table and waited for the coffee to finish. Vivian silently leaned against a counter till there was a beep.

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Oh, I dunno… black, I guess." And with that a mug of dark, steaming liquid was placed in front of her. She lifted the mug and took a ginger sip, careful to not burn her tongue. She failed and burned it anyway, but she could care less. She already felt better upon feeling the coffee slide down her slightly sore throat.

Vivian sat down on the other side of the table and studied Keira before asking, "What are your plans for the day, seeing as how you don't have any work to do around the garage?"

Keira frowned at her coffee and swirled it around in the mug. "I haven't really thought about it yet. I'd kinda like to head over and see Tess."

Vivian nodded. "Good. Girl talk always helps after sleepless nights like these."

Keira's eyes whipped up to Vivian's, searching. _Does she know? _The raven-haired woman just knowingly smiled back and reached over to pat the younger girl's back.

Keira smiled in return, taking genuine comfort from the gesture. She finished her mug and stood up to head back downstairs. "Thanks for the coffee."

Once she was dressed, Keira headed outside to a zoomer, Vivian following close behind. Keira got on the one-seater and noted it was blue with green accents unlike yesterday's bronze colored one.

She turned to Vivian with a puzzled expression on her face and asked, "Just how many zoomers do you have? It seems like a different one is parked out here every day."

Vivian smiled devilishly at her. "My dear mechanic, I don't _own_ any zoomers. There are just a lot of careless people in this city."

Keira stared back for a moment before grinning at the manager and driving off in the direction of the Industrial District.

She arrived at the _Hip Hog Heaven_ around noon, a time when business was thin and therefore a window of opportunity to talk freely sans the sleazy men with guns. Tess was in her usual place behind the bar, drumming her fingernails on the counter with perfect tempo. Her bored face brightened into a smile when she saw Keira walk in, and she hailed her enthusiastically, "How ya doin', Gorgeous?"

Keira offered a weak grin in return. "That all depends."

Tess immediately looked concerned. "What's wrong?" Out of habit, she started preparing drinks for both of them and various bottles clinked together as she poured into a mixer. "Tonight's the championship. You should be ecstatic."

Keira shook her head and sat at the bar, placing her face in her hands. "Krew's not around is he?"

"No, he went off to do some of his same-old shady business." She finished the drinks and waved the glasses around to emphasize said "shady business" before setting them down. She leaned on the counter, now giving her whole attention to Keira. "So what's going on?"

Keira chewed on her lip and absently pulled a strand of hair, frowning at the counter. "Ryker came over last night."

Tess giggled. "That hotty? I bet you had some fun with him." When Keira not only didn't protest but subtly dipped her head and widened her green eyes, Tess' mouth dropped open. "Wait, you _did_ have some fun with him?"

"Almost…"

Tess leaned in closer. "'Almost'?"

Keira took a deep breath before beginning. "Well, I was having a nightmare and he woke me up. We kinda got into a fight and… before I knew it he was on top of me and—you know…"

"But you didn't do it?" Keira shook her head. "You didn't even take any clothes off?" Keira shook her head more vehemently, frowning slightly.

"All he did was kiss me and—" she turned three different shades of red remembering how he had caressed her breasts and thighs, "feel me up a bit."

"Well did you kiss him back?" Keira nodded. "…Did you enjoy it?" Keira nodded again, letting out a slow breath.

Tess smiled. "Well then why are you acting so ashamed? Ryker's a great guy, and he's got a really nice ass!" Tess made a cupping motion with her hands and flexed her fingers. Keira laughed, feeling her gray mood finally lighten a little. It always helped to talk to Tess.

A small smile was still on her face when she said, "I'm just not sure if it's right."

The blonde raised inquisitive eyebrows, "What do you mean 'right'? Do you not really like him?"

"No, I like Ryker a lot! I actually really care about him, but there's… someone else."

Tess' eyebrows rose even higher. "Who?"

"When I first came here I was with three other people," _Well, sort of, _she amended to herself as she thought of Daxter, "and one of them… well, we all got separated and I haven't seen any of them in seven months." She took a shaky breath. "I know it's dumb to keep holding onto the hope that I'll find him again, but I'm just not ready to give it up yet."

"Well then that's that. Just take all the time you need." Tess placed her hand on Keira's and squeezed. "And if you decide it isn't happening with Ryker, pass him over to me, alright?"

Keira laughed as Tess made a number of lewd gestures.

* * *

Vivian and Keira leaned against a work table waiting to wish Ryker good luck, although Keira had rather felt like skipping out and heading into the stadium. She hadn't spoken with him since the previous night. When she saw him as he arrived at the garage to get ready her heart clenched up, and she felt oddly hollow. She wanted to try and avoid any unnecessary contact with him for awhile.

Ryker walked back into the garage all dressed up in a yellow and blue racing suit with _Axle's Garage_ printed on the back, a face mask under his arm. He fiddled with his collar and cleared his throat, before taking the mask and placing it on the top of his head, ready to be pulled down just before the race started. He took a deep breath and stood exceptionally tall, puffing out his chest slightly. He turned to the two women, jutting out his lower jaw, and said, "So do I look like a champion?"

The three all laughed, somewhat nervously, and Vivian walked up to him to dust off his shoulder. "You're gonna win this thing, you hear? You're gonna bring me back one huge, gold trophy!"

He smiled at the raven-haired manager. "No problem, Boss."

"_Attention all drivers, the Class One Races will begin shortly._"

He confidently strutted toward the control panel to open the door and turned to say, "Wish me luck."

Both women said in unison, "Good luck!"

Ryker gave Keira only a quick glance before turning back to the control panel. His finger was inches from the button when a series of loud, banging clunks sounded on the door.

"This is the Krimzon Guard! Open up!"

Ryker and Vivian simultaneously looked at each other, wide-eyed, and then at Keira, identical expressions of indecision on their faces before they turned back to each other and nodded. The guards pounded on the door again.

"Open up or we'll break the door down!"

Vivian ran upstairs, and Ryker proceeded to grab all the trophies off their shelves, speedily tossing them into a canvas bag. He then opened up several secret compartments in the wall, throwing out various weapons, artifacts, and documents. Upon removing the contents and placing them on the nearest available surface, he kneeled and felt the floor with searching fingers. Vivian ran back down the stairs, some more weapons and a bag of money in her arms, and dumped them on a table. She also kneeled and felt around the floor.

Keira stared at the two in utter bewilderment. "What's going on?"

The guard outside shouted his final warning before the sound of a fortified electric saw split the air with a high-pitched whine.

Vivian spoke without looking up, "Don't worry. They're here for us not you, but we have to get you hidden." Whatever her fingers had been searching for, she triumphantly haw-hawed.

"But why are they here??" Keira's eyes grew wider when she saw Vivian's fingers slip in the floor and then pull up the edge of a hidden trap door. Ryker moved to help her slide the metal slab off the opening, and asked Keira, ignoring her earlier question, "Do you have any money here?"

"Yes—" With a deafening squeal, the saw blade cut all the way through the left side of the door, poking through with rapidly spinning teeth.

Ryker commanded, "Get it now."

Wordlessly obeying him, Keira went to grab her stash of credits as well as her bag of Precursor orbs. The trap door now lay open, revealing a space barely big enough for a person inside.

Vivian turned to her. "If they find you here you'll be in as much trouble as we are. Get in!"

Too shaken to protest, Keira lowered herself into the compartment, and Vivian and Ryker began loading in the weapons, items, and money they had grabbed in around her. The saw had now cut half a hole in the door.

Keira asked again, "What's going on??"

Ryker looked her straight in the eye, "I told you I want to trust you, but it was for your own protection that I didn't tell you certain things." Keira tried to cut in but he wouldn't let her. "It won't do you any good for me to tell you now."

Vivian leaned down and fiercely hugged the younger girl. "You just forget about this! Use all that money in there to try and stay out of trouble." She and Ryker were now pushing the metal slab over her, covering her up.

"Wait! What's going to happen to you two??"

Ryker reached down into the compartment and cupped Keira's cheek. "I'm sorry we have to leave you like this. Just know that—"

Vivian yelled, "Ryker, they're almost through the door!"

Ryker cursed softly under his breath and gazed at her one last time before saying, "I … goodbye, Keira!" and he and Vivian closed up the compartment.

Keira soon heard a thunderous crash, indicating the door had fallen in. The stampeding footsteps of a dozen or so krimzon guards flooding the garage vibrated above. Keira heard a voice, the same one that had yelled before.

"Vivian Ildri and Crys Ryker, you're under arrest for charges of smuggling, sedition, and subversion against Haven City's grand ruler, Baron Praxis, carried out in association with the treasonous Underground Movement."

"Oh dear," Vivian's voice floated down to Keira, "and just before the championship. Have you no sense of duty to your city? The audience will be crushed when Ryker doesn't get to race against your pitiful commander and lose all faith in the system."

"You will not mock Commander Errol or the honorable company of the Krimzon Guard!"

Keira heard a loudspeaker boom out the start of the race in the stadium.

"Better be careful, Viv," Ryker said, "I think you're making him angry."

"Yeah," Vivian responded, "I bet he'd be especially pissed if I started commenting on the exceptionally small size of his penis."

A scuffle broke out above, and Keira could hear shouting as a loud crash indicated someone was thrown into one of the storage units. _Are those idiots actually fighting??_ Keira asked herself incredulously. They had no weapons. They had thrown them all down in the compartment with her. She heard another loud crash before all the movement stopped. She heard the krimzon guard captain say, "Another move from you and we won't hesitate to shoot. You would be dead already if the Baron didn't insist on bringing all Underground members in alive."

_They're being held at gunpoint…_ a pair of footsteps and the clicking of handcuffs sounded.

"Search the garage!"

The footsteps didn't die down for another fifteen minutes. Keira waited an extra five to be sure they were gone before daring to come out. Her body was badly cramped, and she hobbled around awkwardly for a bit as she took in the remnants of the garage. It was now an absolute mess of toppled zoomers, ransacked storage units, and scattered tools and parts. Anything that wasn't stationary was overturned, anything that was fragile was broken. Several of the posters had been torn off the walls, and the door had an enormous hole in it, perhaps eight feet in diameter. The sign reading _Axle's Garage _was split in half. Keira wandered up to Vivian's apartment, which was in a similar state to the garage below. Nothing of value was left. They would have stolen the trophies and all the money if they hadn't been thrown in with her. She headed back downstairs and surveyed the room again before soundlessly stepping out through the huge hole and heading towards the arches.

The race was over. People flooded the square, shouting and celebrating and drinking, exhilarated by the event they just witnessed, completely oblivious to what had taken place in _Axle's Garage_.

Errol had won.

Keira leaned against one of the arches and trembled, chilled by the night air.

* * *

Jak hit the ground, scraping his shoulder, and crumpled into a fetal position. The door slammed shut behind him.

How long had they tortured him? Months? Days? Years?

They had set up a schedule of pumping him full of dark eco on a weekly basis. Each session only lasted thirty seconds, but it seemed like an eternity of rampant agony.

Jak's breath came in ragged gasps, and his body heaved in the effort to take in air. His throat and lungs were raw, and each breath felt like fire entering his body. He dimly noted he was drenched in grimy sweat but only in the most basic sense. Everything his brain registered was on impulse. It took him fifteen minutes before he could even recover the ability to think properly. He usually waited an hour or two, completely rigid, before he would dare move his body. He feared if he did he would fall apart.

Something was happening to him.

Jak felt it every time he was tortured, thriving off the dark eco, growing, a terrible dark side of his soul that threatened to consume his mind and destroy his identity. He felt rage. He both wanted the blood of those that did this to him and didn't. He battled against himself, trying desperately to hang on to who he was and what he believed in. Cold-hearted revenge was beneath him. Only the lowliest scum would try and take life in retribution.

But he was changing.

Jak groaned and squeezed his arms till his knuckles were white. He ground his teeth and his body was wracked by violent shaking. He felt waves of white-hot and breaths of ice-cold. Above all else he felt the rage.

He struggled to put it out by remembering happier days. He tried to replay old memories in his head and disappear, letting the sights, sounds, smells, and textures carry him away. But his memories were growing faint. He could only just barely remember the feel of the wind on his face and the smell of salty ocean air in his nostrils. And the Sandover of his memories was twisting and distorting, slowly mutating into an ugly, black realm. The wind felt like sandpaper on his cheek and the air smelled of sewage.

As always, Jak tried to think of his friends, but Daxter's loud rhetorics were diminishing to a mild buzz, and the distinct green color was draining from Samos' skin, leaving a pasty grey hue behind. He tried to remember Keira and recall the soft features he had memorized through many a stolen glance. But he could not remember. The contours of her face and body were becoming the indistinct haze of a mirage. The color of her hair, the beauty of her eyes, the tenderness of her lips—all was melting away, disappearing into the blackness of his soul till he could barely even recall the sound of her voice.

The dark eco was stealing all that Jak loved, leaving him nothing but a shadow of his memories. Intense despair mingled with his rage, wrapping around him like an impenetrable cloud. And so he prayed.

He prayed to the Precursors that he wouldn't lose his humanity.

* * *

what'd i tell ya? way too short of a jak segment where almost nothing gets said! the injustice of it all... and in classic emotionally retarded fashion, keira will never let herself cry again... or so she thinks! (evil laugh) 

i'd like to say thanks to my faithful reviewers. without encouragement i would never get anything written!


	6. The Shining Stars Above

i bet you all thought i'd gone and given up on this fic, huh? not surprising since i haven't updated in almost two months. bleah... i've just felt no inspiration whatsoever for the longest time and being in boston for three weeks doesn't help updates much, but whatever. 

so for those of you who didn't reread the jak section at the end of the last chapter, go do it now because i made it longer. i feel like i managed to come up with something original in terms of what's happening to his memories and such. as for originality in this chapter... we'll see. i despise writing battle scenes of which there are several and i'm not too sure about the quality of said scenes (or anything in between for that matter), but i really wanted to just get this chapter out there and worry about more polishing only if you guys found anything heinously wrong with it.

i also updated almost every previous chapter because i finally found a source that tells me naughty dog's names for the different districts of haven city. as such, the "blue district" is now the "business district", etc.

either way, i'm sorry for the terribly long wait and i hope you enjoy what you waited for!

update: i've finally made up my mind to change keira's costume. hope it fits with her character.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**The Shining Stars Above**

The wreckage of _Axle's Garage_ had changed little. The only thing that gave away the passage of time was an exceedingly thick layer of pale dust coating everything. Racing managers were evidently rather superstitious creatures, and since the previous owner had been female and ended up in the clink, nobody had the guts to buy the place. Keira couldn't decide if that meant she was lucky or not.

She glanced around the garage, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell of the place. She glared at suspicious worktables and storage units. _There had better not be any mold in here…_

She headed up to the old apartment to take a look. Nearly everything of use had been stolen, leaving the place almost entirely barren. She swore silently to herself, thinking how she'd have to spend even more money. She had already wasted three Precursor orbs buying the garage back from the stadium's proprietor.

Having seen enough, Keira walked back downstairs and outside to the zoomer she stole earlier that day. It was pouring rain and a miserable time to be driving. The wet seat squeaked as she mounted the zoomer and her small hands easily slid off the controls if she wasn't careful. Punching the ignition, she drove toward the East Side slums, racing into the night like a bullet. She didn't like getting soaked, but driving as fast as possible did nothing to save her of that particular misery. She was wet to the bone within thirty seconds of leaving the stadium.

At times like these she couldn't help but wonder why she joined the Underground almost a year-and-a-half ago.

* * *

"_What the hell do want?" _

_Keira swallowed, as a man with auburn dreadlocks and facial tattoos glared at her. "I want to join the Underground. Tess sent me."_

_He looked her up and down, sizing her up much in the same manner Vivian had. "And what's your talent?" he asked, sarcastically._

"_I can do anything you ask me to when it comes to mechanics and I'm a Class 2 shooter according to _your _gun course."_

"_Tess let you use the gun course?! She knows better than to let some outsider use it!" the man scowled darkly and began muttering about various reprimands under his breath. _

"_I'm not an outsider!" Keira responded more vehemently than she meant to and struggled to reign herself in. "…Vivian Ildri and Crys Ryker are close friends of mine."_

_The man stopped grumbling and looked at her with renewed interest._

* * *

Keira pulled up to the Underground entrance and jumped off her zoomer. She pounded on the door with a cold fist and waited for somebody to let her in. She still hadn't gotten around to fixing the scanner that would automatically open the door for anyone with the right security pass.

Finally, the entrance creaked to life and slid open, allowing Keira to walk inside. She always felt like she was entering a cave when heading into the Underground headquarters. She briefly glanced at the familiar surroundings and spotted Torn in his usual place behind a table littered in maps and assignments.

Keira glared at the former KG commander as she rung water out of her hair and clothing. "A little slow on the draw there eh, Torn?"

He didn't even look up from the table. "Sorry. I can't be bothered with kittens who don't like water."

She obligingly hissed and headed for a hidden door in the left wall. "I'm going for a shower." She flipped open a panel and entered a code, causing a section of the wall to slide up and reveal the concealed bulk of the headquarters.

"Hold it. How's the garage?"

She rested her hand on the doorframe and rolled her eyes. "Real fabulous. You might be able to feed the North, South, _and_ Water Slums with all the stuff growing in there." Torn grunted in response, and she could hear the shuffling of papers. Keira coldly looked over her shoulder at him.

"This is a really shitty assignment, Torn."

He looked up at her, one eyebrow raised. "I thought you liked being a mechanic."

"I do, but I somehow doubt working back in _that_ garage is going to be a wonderfully nostalgic experience."

"The opportunity to spy on Errol is too good to pass up. The Baron's up to something, and there's no better way to find out than to grease up that bastard with a pretty face."

"Well if the commander of the KG is breathing down my neck I sure as hell won't be able to put my engineering skills to much use. How do you expect me to continue making repairs and developments?"

"You'll figure it out."

Keira scowled at Torn before turning to walk through the door. "Whatever."

She went to her private quarters to grab a change of clothes and then headed to the showers. Upon crossing the threshold she removed her handgun, attached to her leg by a holster, and a hunting knife hidden in her boot. Unarmed, she promptly tore off her clothes, grubby from a good day's work. She briefly glanced at the crumpled pile and smiled sardonically.

She had long ago abandoned her conspicuous magenta capris for a pair of durable black cutoffs with the edges rolled up just above the lip of her boots. She still wore the red and black boots she received soon after arriving in Haven. A utility belt and fingerless red gloves gave her functionality, and Vivian's jacket gave her courage. Keira stared at the worn navy material, smiling despite herself at the _Axle's Garage _patch adorning the back. Aside from her old goggles, belt and suspenders, and halter top, her Sandover garments were lost and gone forever. Now she looked dark and formidable, more fit to walk the streets of Haven City.

She stepped into a stall and turned the water on, relishing the feeling of the hot water hitting her skin.

* * *

Jak's screams echoed throughout the chamber as the rays of dark eco cast flickering purple shadows. After the first few experiments the Baron was dissatisfied with the results or lack thereof and had ordered for Errol to up the ante. At first, this only meant adding on thirty seconds to the injection time, but when there continued to be no change in Jak it also meant more frequent experiments. Before his first year in Haven was up, Jak was subjected to injections three times a week for one minute. Now he suffered seven days a week for a full two minutes.

He thrashed on the table as Praxis impatiently paced on the platform. Finally, the rays of dark eco diminished and the torture was done for the day. Jak fell slack, barely conscious. The same electronic female voice sounded: "_Dark Eco Injection Cycle complete. Bio readings nominal and unchanged._"

The Baron growled, displeased, and said, "Nothing! I was informed that this one might be different!" He glared at Errol significantly, reminding the Krimzon Guard commander that _he_ was the one who had informed the Baron in the first place.

Errol didn't meet the larger man's glare but instead looked down to the nearly comatose Jak. "He is surprisingly resistant to your experiments, Baron Praxis. I fear the Dark Warrior Program has failed."

The Baron made a sound between a yell and a snarl, grabbing Jak's hair and lifting him off the table as much as the restraints would allow. "You should at least be _dead_ with all the dark eco I've pumped into you!" He roughly threw the elf back down.

"What now? Metal head armies are pressing their attacks. Without a new weapon my men cannot hold them off forever." Errol's comment was met with another scathing glower.

"I will not be remembered as the man who lost this city to those vile creatures! Move forward with the final plan," the Baron took a step to leave but stopped to nod at Jak, "and finish off this _thing _tonight."

"As you wish." Errol leaned towards Jak. "I'll be back later…" and he followed a storming Praxis across the bridge and out of the room.

Jak barely breathed, exhausted and in pain. Now he'd only have a short time to try and recover before a few guards would come and throw him back in his cell. But his suffering would end soon. Errol had orders to kill him that very evening. The thought filled Jak with a strange feeling somewhat akin to happiness. It would all be over soon.

Once he heard the Baron and Errol leave a whirring sounded to his right. What was it? A guard already? He didn't open his eyes to check.

"Ding, ding! Third floor: body chains, roach food, torture devices." A familiar weight landed on his chest. His eyes slid open and he caught a glimpse of orange before his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Hey, buddy, you seen any heroes around here?" The voice paused. "Woah! What'd they do to you?" It grabbed the red cloth swathing his head and neck and shook him slightly. "Jak, it's me, Daxter!"

Daxter? No, it must be one of his hallucinations.

But the voice persisted. "That's a fine hello!" It paced down his body, landing a blow below the belt. Jak cringed in pain as his eyes rolled open again. He still saw an orange blur. "I've been crawling around in this place risking my tail—literally—to save _you_!" Could it really be Daxter? The ranting certainly sounded like him. "I've been lookin' for you for two years! Say something! Just this once!"

Say something? He'd wanted the ability to speak for years, but had always had something blocking him—a traumatic incident, according to Samos, which also accounted for his blank memory before the age of four. Maybe this wasn't Daxter after all. What made the ottsel think Jak would be able to speak now? How could he? But he wanted to. He wanted a new outlet for all his rage. He could feel it bubbling up in his throat right now, fighting to break loose. Jak struggled to let it come forth in words, hammering against whatever inhibited from speaking. His throat trembled, and then the mental barrier shattered.

"I'm gonna _kill_ Praxis!"

Daxter hastily covered Jak's mouth with gloved paws. "Shhhhhh! Right now we gotta get you outta here." He leapt over to Jak's left hand and stared down at the metal cuff, not noticing how hard his friend was starting to breathe. The same hate that surged up in words was now wrapping itself around Jak's mind till all he could see was red mist and all he could smell was metallic blood. He wanted it… "Just let me figure out how to open the security locks for your chair so—"

Daxter was cut off when an animal-like, growling yell issued from Jak, followed by the screeching sound of breaking metal and Daxter ending up sprawled on the floor. He looked up to see a creature he didn't know getting off the table. Jak's tan skin had blanched to the pale complexion of a corpse and his green-blonde locks had faded to the color of ash. Immense black claws extended from white fingers as dark eco flickered over his body. But most alien of all were Jak's eyes. It was as though his pupils had distended so far that the blue of his iris and the white of his retina had disappeared entirely. His eyes were now black and empty as a lurker shark's.

Daxter assumed a meek posture. "Or, ah… you could do it."

The creature turned its pitch black stare on Daxter and slowly advanced, a malicious expression on its ghostly features.

"…Jak? Easy now. Easy, buddy." The monster raised a clawed hand to attack. "It's your old pal Daxter! …Remember?"

Jak started to swing his talons, a primal scream ripping forth, when he suddenly stopped. A dazed look crossed his face and he turned back into an elf. He staggered back, raising a hand to his forehead. "Daxter?"

Daxter gawked at his friend. "What the hell was that?? Seesh, remind me not to piss you off!" He walked over to the bridge, gesturing for Jak to follow. "Come on, tall, dark, and gruesome. We're outta here!"

Jak followed, surprised that he wasn't feeling the usual effects of a slow recovery from injection. Rather than being weighed down by pain and exhaustion he was uplifted by a strange pulse that both energized and clouded him. He could easily move but he felt so… dark.

At the other side of the bridge, the ottsel produced a bundle, seemingly out of nowhere, and handed it to Jak. "I, uh, brought you some new threads. Put 'em on."

Jak stared down at the bundle, which contained a blue tunic, tan pants, boots, leather bracers, navy gloves, and a new pair of goggles. His gaze then traveled to his own attire—a dirty, green shirt and pants, complete with an identification number printed on the chest of the garment. _I won't get very far in these… _he thought to himself, and promptly changed into the new clothes, leaving only the red cloth draping around his head and neck in place.

Daxter whistled his approval. "Not bad. You look like hot stuff in those."

Jak tested the clothing's freedom of movement, bending various joints. "I dunno. The material is kinda stiff."

A clanging sound somewhere in the fortress brought the pair's attention back to their present situation. Daxter scrambled up Jak's body and sat in his old spot on the left shoulder. The ottsel gave Jak a thumbs-up and a grin. He returned the gesture before looking around the room. Over to the right in a back corner there were several stacked crates, leading the way up to higher catwalk. After climbing up the boxes, he looked around again and saw two things: a large airshaft and a Precursor orb.

Not really interested in collecting any of the little eggs, Jak was about to head into the shaft when Daxter reprimanded him, "What are ya doin', nitwit? Get the Precursor orb!"

"Who needs another one of those? Right now we gotta get out of he—"

"Quit arguin' and go get it! They're really valuable here."

Realizing that something of value might be useful, especially since he had none of this world's money, Jak grumbled and speedily ran over to grab the orb before jumping up into the shaft. After rounding a corner, the pair entered another room and the monotone female voiced rang out. "_Alert! Prison escape in progress._"

Jak put on a burst of speed, again surprised by the ease with which he could move, as Daxter cursed, "Aw, crap! Now every guard in the fortress'll be after us!"

Jak growled as he climbed up a new set of crates, irritated by the accusing tone in Daxter's voice, "That's what happens when you waste time going after a stupid Precursor orb." He leapt up across platforms suspended over a black pit, briefly wondering why there were so many pits in a prison.

"Ey! Maybe I shoulda just left ya in there to rot! You don't even have a gun," The ottsel started to say something else but was quickly silenced when Jak held up a commanding hand. Indistinct voices sounded from the next room. Moving slowly, he crept stealthily towards a short, L-shaped hallway. The voices drifted around the corner.

"—prisoner is heading this way."

"Fuckin' sweet! I've been itching to shoot somebody all day."

Daxter said, in a very small voice, "Krimzon guards! We're done for!"

Jak continued listening to the conversation for a moment before frowning. "No… there's only two of them. They don't know we're here yet."

Jak gulped nervously. Apparently surprise was on his side, but that didn't change the fact that he was in a strange place inhabited by strange people. Who knew what weapons they might have? He already was acquainted with the standard KG guns thanks to several bad experiences over the past two years, but that didn't mean there weren't more arms he was unaware of. Jak shook his head. Worrying about the unknown would get him nowhere. Action was his only option.

Taking a deep breath, Jak sprinted around the corner. The two guards turned just in time for him to engage the nearest one with a well-aimed fist. The guard staggered back and Jak punched again, right into his helmet. Metal crushed against knuckles, imploding into the face it was supposed to shield with a sickening crunch. The guard crumpled to the floor, dead.

Adrenaline throttled through Jak's veins and sweat glistened on his skin. The realization of what he just did hit him like a lurker club—along with a thrill. The darkness in his body shivered, reveling in the kill.

Jak turned to the other guard who stood on a higher level in the room and a good distance away from any threat. He was surprised when a fiery projectile streaked past his face, burning his cheek. Sidestepping, he narrowly avoided a second one and realized the bits of fire were bullets.

Daxter yelled, "Watch out!" Jak ducked, avoiding another shot, and charged the guard. He had only to scale a middle platform before he could reach the higher level. He wasted no time doing so, dodging bullets the entire time, and leapt into the air, kicking the guard in the chest. The guard took one step too many backwards. An armored foot slipped off the platform and he flailed his arms, dropping his weapon into the pit below. After a few moments more, gravity won the fight and the guard plummeted into the black depths of the fortress.

Jak panted, bracing his hands on his knees. "Woah! You whooped their asses hardcore!" Daxter said, an incredulous look on his face. Jak nodded.

_I killed them…_

He straightened up and resumed running. After jumping a gap, he entered another room with metal grating for a floor. Thinking nothing of it, Jak continued through when he heard a strange clicking noise below. Realizing his mistake too late, he churned his legs faster and dashed across the room as countless weapons fired up from below. Jak almost faltered when one of the shots grazed his right arm, both burning and cutting the flesh, but forced himself to keep going.

Jak rocketed off the grating onto a corner of wholly floor which appeared to be a dead-end. Burning blue eyes scanned the area till they fell upon a square trap door. Upon examination, Jak saw the metal square was padlocked. After considering the situation for a moment, he stomped on the surface, testing it. A high-pitched sound resounded and he realized the metal was substantially thinner than he thought. Grinning, Jak backed up several paces and made a running leap into the air above the trap door. Allowing his muscle memory to do the work, Jak's body twisted before diving into the unfortified steel and breaking through to the room below. He neatly bounced of his hands and landed in a squat, followed by a shower of metal scraps.

Racing through the compound, Jak ran into several more krimzon guards but had no difficulty killing them with speed he didn't know he possessed—and with every kill he felt the darkness grow a little thicker and shroud him even further. Already he was becoming jaded to the emotional effects of murder. Soon every guard had Praxis' face, and each guard he slaughtered brought him closer to his revenge.

After climbing a final stack of crates, Jak faced an open door to the night. All his urgency to escape drained, and he slowly approached to door. Stopping on the threshold, he inhaled deeply, relishing the cool, fresh air entering his lungs. The wet scent of rain lingered in the night. Looking up, he could see a few stars peeking out from behind the smog.

"Uh, Jak, what are you doin'? We gotta get outta here," Daxter asked as he stared up at the sky, wondering what could be so enchanting.

"…I haven't seen the stars in two years, Dax."

The ottsel paused, considering, and looked again, although not with the aim of simply looking but actually seeing. The two friends didn't say a word as they gazed at the heavens because words weren't necessary. The changes they had experienced filled all space for conversation, but neither one minded. After two years of pain and separation, sharing the moment was enough.

Daxter smiled and settled more comfortably on Jak's shoulder. "They sure are beautiful, huh?"

Jak nodded. Allowing himself only a minute more, he tore his eyes away from the stars and leapt into the damp street below.

* * *

Assuming that the street he landed in was a part of the same city, the area outside the fortress was completely different from the one he first arrived in. Rather than all surfaces being made of sleek, albeit filthy, metal everything consisted of cheaper materials and was falling apart. The paved streets were grimy and cratered and the buildings were all made of crumbling stone walls and rusty slat roofs.

The people looked even more miserable than he remembered. Their clothes were shabbier and their faces were more withdrawn. But two stood out among the rest. An old robed man carrying a staff and sporting a beard that would put Samos' to shame walked slowly amongst the crowd, leading a small child by the hand. His wrinkled face appeared bright and alert rather than dull and listless. Perhaps such a black sheep would know something of value.

Jak stalked up to the old man who, noticing the young elf's approach, looked up with a curious expression on his face. Gesturing with his staff, he greeted the pair in a gravelly old voice, "Hello, strangers. My name is Kor. May I help—"

Jak cut the old man off. "You look like a reasonably smart man. I want information. Where the _hell_ am I?"

"Ah, sorry," Daxter interjected, raising a paw to point at his companion, "He's new to the whole conversation thing."

Kor harrumphed but dismissed Jak's volatile word choice with a toss of his beard. "Well, my angry young friend, you are a guest of His _Majesty_,Baron Praxis, the ruler of _glorious_ Haven City."

Jak glared at the old man. "I was just a 'guest' in the good Baron's prison."

Kor gesticulated grandly with his staff and donned an irritatingly philosophical tone. "Inside a cell or inside the city, walls surround us both," he brought his staff down on the pavement with a dull clack, emphasizing his point. "We are all his prisoners."

As if on cue, several pairs of armored footsteps approached the group. Jak looked up and saw a squad of krimzon guards marching towards them.

Kor started to shuffle away, herding the child with his staff, "Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time." He glanced at Jak and said in a warning voice, "I'd move on if I were you."

But Jak didn't hear, lost in his own thoughts. _Do they know I'm here already?_ Given his so far successful experience in dealing with the KG, he wasn't even thinking about the possibility of being captured when the lead guard halted the squad with a raised hand and stepped forward.

"By order of His Eminence, the grand protector of Haven City, Baron Praxis, everyone in this section is hereby under arrest for suspicion of harboring Underground fugitives. Surrender and die!"

"Ah, excuse me, sir," The guard looked down at Daxter, "don't you mean surrender _or _die??"

"Not in this city," Kor gave Jak a meaningful look as the ottsel stared at the guard incredulously, "Protect us from these guards, and I'll introduce you to someone who can help you!"

Jak hardly took a moment to consider the pros and cons of the situation before punching the nearest guard in the ribs. Every krimzon guard was fodder for his rage and every krimzon guard was an opportunity to send the Baron a get-dead-soon card.

Within ten seconds Jak had already put three guards out of commission. Yelling a battle cry, he performed an uppercut square into a fourth guard's chin whose neck promptly snapped. But now the entire squad of a good thirty elves was converging on Jak. He had little difficulty in the fortress because he continually encountered guards in small groups but there was no way he could take on so many at once without a weapon and be the last one standing. Then they would take him back to the fortress…

At the mere notion of returning to that hellhole Jak felt the darkness grow. Just like before it swirled around him as his mind disappeared, thickening until all he could see was red.

Daxter looked from the open-mouthed Kor to his left to the raging beast that was Jak. After a moment of gripping his head as rays of dark eco pulsed over his body, Jak transformed into the same creature that nearly attacked the ottsel. Now, Daxter's friend was little more than a pale blur spinning from one side of the street to the other in seconds, leaving trails of disemboweled guards behind. Wherever Jak's black claws flashed, armor and blood went flying, and primal screams of pleasure mixed with those of intense pain. Most of the citizens wandering the streets had run away or gone inside buildings to fearfully watch from behind closed doors—a few of the more audacious ones stood and watched on the sidelines. The kid hid behind Kor's robes and Daxter himself looked on in awe. In less than a minute it was all over and Jak reverted to his human form, panting. The darkness was satiated for the time being.

Daxter gawked wide-eyed at the carnage surrounding his friend before his feral face split into an amazed grin. "That was _cool_! Do it again!"

Electrical pulses of dark eco flickered around Jak's body, causing every muscle to violently quiver. He stared down at his contorted hands. "Something's happening to me—" his hands slowly balled into painful fists and his arms quaked, "Something he did… I can't—control it."

Kor walked up to the pair, carefully stepping over mangled bodies. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, "Very impressive."

Daxter looked up at a still shaking Jak, concerned. "You okay, Jak?"

"What you did was very brave." The old man gestured to the small boy clinging to his robes. "This child is important—"

Daxter pointed at the urchin in disbelief. "This kid? He looks kinda…" He examined the boy's smeared face and bare feet, "…scruffy."

A krimzon guard in a zoomer turned onto the street and immediately radioed for backup at the sight of the slaughtered squad. Speaking with a sense of urgency, Kor leaned in towards Jak and said, "Thank you for your help, but I must get this boy to safety."

Daxter piped up, "Hey! What about us?"

Kor spared the ottsel only a quick glance before continuing. "There is an underground group waging war against Baron Praxis. Its leader, The Shadow, could use fighters like you. Go to the South Slums. There's a dead-end alley near the city wall." Kor paused and glanced at the guard who was coming their way. "Ask for Torn. He can help you."

Also seeing the guard, Jak nodded his thanks to Kor and took off down a side street, melting into the darkness.

* * *

after all the horrendously short jak sections, i'll now be writing almost nothing but stuff about jak! the distribution of writing between jak and keira will at this point basically flip-flop, and i'm not really looking forward to it. of course it's nice to get more jak, but more jak means a hell of a lot more battle scenes which i just don't feel like i do too well with. plus, i'll now be following the framework laid down by the game, and while i want to get on with the show i think part of the reason why this chapter was so hard to write is because i finally caught up with the beginning of the story. ah well. at least this gets me a little bit closer to the part of the story i can't wait to write... 

review, and you shall get a cookie!


	7. The Underground

well, school and the same lack of motivation waylaid this chapter by several weeks, which is especially funny as this is the shortest one yet. but i'm finally going to submit it so it's all good.

again i had to make a couple changes to last chapter. for example, the underground hq is in the south not north slums and i added on to some of the dialogue.

a major problem has been figuring out how i'm going to handle jak's missions. although i haven't skipped any yet, there's no way in hell i'm going to write them all. i could barely stand writing the first few and can't wait to start skipping around in a chapter or two. i wanna get to the heavy, juicy, dramatic stuff! do tell me what you think of the missions so far.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**The Underground**

The sky brightened almost imperceptibly as a faint azure glow peeked over buildings from the western horizon. Dawn was growing near and a certain ottsel yawned unceremoniously on his best friend's shoulder.

"Man, I've been pulling one too many all-nighters lately."

Jak nodded as he strode along a nearly empty street. Daxter raised a sleepy eyebrow at the elf. "Ya know, big guy, you nodding all the time makes me wonder if you're still a mute."

"No," Jak raised a hand to his neck, "it's just that my throat hurts. I'm not used to talking."

After a good twenty minutes of wandering the streets and dodging krimzon guards, the pair finally arrived at the alley meeting Kor's description. Heading round the corner, Jak found himself staring down a gun barrel at a buxom blonde.

She scowled menacingly at Jak, and he couldn't help but feel she really knew how to use the weapon in her hands—all the more reason to clobber the randy ottsel on his shoulder for whistling his approval.

The blonde's eyes narrowed to deadly slits and she circled a small finger around the trigger. Jak hastily explained, "We're looking for a guy named Torn." Stony silence in response, "Kor sent us… um,"

Fearing that his escape would now come to nothing, Jak's eyes widened in surprise when the blonde lowered her gun and stepped to the side. As if in response, a man Jak hadn't noticed before stepped out from the shadows. Sporting a full head of auburn dreadlocks and a face of tattoos similar to Errol's, the man glared at Jak with an icy, pale blue stare. He walked forward with a panther-like grace, arms crossed over an armored chest, giving the impression of a seasoned warrior who could take a foe down in the blink of an eye. He was a good head taller than Jak, causing the younger elf to straighten up.

"Are you Torn?" Again he was answered only with dead predawn quiet as the man eyed Jak suspiciously.

Daxter leaned forward. "Maybe this guy's a mute like you used to be."

The man said in a smoky voice, "New faces make me nervous." He poked Jak's chest with enough force to briefly buckle the channeler's knees. Smirking, he proceeded to saunter around Jak like a vulture circling carrion. "Word is you're out to join the fight for the city. You know, picking the wrong side could be," he leaned down and stuck is face right in Jak's, grinning devilishly, "unhealthy."

Jak glared right back, unperturbed. "We want to see The Shadow."

Torn gave a course chuckle and, turning his back on the pair, started walking away. "Not likely. If you want to join something, why don't you and your pet go join the circus?" Jak's eyes darkened and Daxter pointed, opening his mouth to retort, when Torn looked back over his shoulder, "Unless you got the fur for a really tough task."

Reaching behind his back, the Underground member pulled a crescent-shaped dagger into view. Daxter swallowed his comeback and cringed as Torn nonchalantly fingered a razor sharp edge. "Steal the Baron's banner from the top of the Ruined Tower in Dead Town and bring it back to me. Then maybe we'll talk." Deftly spinning the blade into the air and catching it, Torn turned on his heel and walked back into the shadows, dismissing the pair.

* * *

An enormous door in the city wall sat sunk into a sizable hole in the alley. Weeds popped up between cracks in the pavement and several small vines snaked their way up the door's metal surface. Huge locks coated in a grimy layer of rust barred any unauthorized passage to the outside. 

"You sure this is it, Dax?" Jak eyed the rundown door apprehensively.

The ottsel nodded. "Yup, this is Dead Town." A chunk of rock broke off the rim of the hole and tumbled to the bottom with a crash, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Daxter said dryly, "It's a real popular locale."

"So I see." Jumping into the hole, Jak went and stood in front of the door. When nothing happened, he gave Daxter a meaningful sidelong glance.

The ottsel jumped down and with a flourish waved his arms and grandly shouted, "OPEN SESAME!" Again, nothing happened. Frustrated, Daxter dropped his little arms before walking up to the door and kicking it. Grasping his foot in pain, he hopped around when the door suddenly creaked to life. The rusty locks turned till the two gaps in them lined up and the door opened.

Jak stepped inside and a grumbling Daxter soon followed. The door behind them closed and another opened, revealing the outside. The female computer crackled to life.

"_Exiting City_."

By now the sun was peeking over the horizon, illuminating the terrain before them. Apparently, Dead Town was only as good as its entrance. Dilapidated buildings and crumbling walls stretched as far as the eye could see over a festering marsh. The brown muck of the swamp saturated the air with the stink of sulfur and, oddly enough, salt. One could constantly hear the sound of concrete rumbling and falling apart. The low angle of sunlight cast long dark shadows that seemed to deform the landscape further. Far off in the distance stood a lone tower looking just as decrepit as its surroundings.

Jak was nearly abreast of the two crumbling walls when a green blur flashed in the corner of his eye. Quickly sidestepping, Jak whirled around to face his opponent. At first he didn't see anything at all because said opponent was only two feet tall. Remarkably akin to some slimy enemy in Boggy Swamp, the amphibious creature was bug-eyed, big-mouthed, and, naturally, covered in slime. Jak raised an eyebrow at the creature, unimpressed, and easily dodged its long pink tongue. Not wanting to waste any more time with such small fry, Jak promptly kicked the creature into the nearest wall and nimbly hopped to the next island.

Jak was steadily realizing that Dead Town was something akin to a maze. Even though the tower was in plain sight, he found himself constantly circling around the small islands and crumbling walls in an effort to find a path that wasn't falling apart. Several degenerating walkways, a handful of frog-like enemies, and a good ten minutes later, he finally stood at the base of the tower.

The structure looked even worse up close and creaked and groaned louder than Samos' joints. Jak stared up at the tower suspiciously. "Why would the Baron put a banner at the top of a crumbling rock pile."

"Well," Daxter replied thoughtfully, a grin spreading across his orange face, "it sure is big and undoubtedly a pain in the ass to climb. He's probably just tryin' to advertise the size of his equipment."

Laughing, Jak began scaling the tower. After crossing a narrow bridge, half of which fell apart, he ran into several tiered platforms. Jak jumped onto each platform without a second thought. It wasn't until the last one that he realized his mistake.

As soon as Jak's feet landed, a gravelly cracking sounded below. Glancing at his boots, Jak saw cracks radiating out from where he stood. Looking around, he at first saw no way to escape when he noticed an old cross-beam sticking out of the floor above. Taking only a brief moment to coil up, Jak sprang into the air just as the platform fell away to the marsh below. Jak arched his body in an effort to reach the pole. For one stomach-dropping moment the elf hung suspended, gloved hands just inches from salvation. Just when Jak thought he would fall to his death below, he grasped the pole. Driven by adrenaline, he braced his arms and followed through, swinging in a wide circle around the pole, Daxter yelling in his ear. Preparing himself, Jak swung around one more time before letting go and soaring up to the ledge above. Performing a neat flip, the elf managed to land on both feet with only a small stumble.

Once again standing on solid ground, Jak allowed his tense muscles to relax and gave a great sigh of relief. Daxter, however, fell limp on his friend's shoulder and nearly slipped off.

Jak smiled at the flaccid ottsel, "Sorry, Dax, I'm a little rusty."

Daxter raised a wobbly finger. "Just tell me when we're back on the ground."

Continuing to wind up around the building's exterior, Jak encountered several more of the crumbling platforms with much less difficulty and Daxter started becoming used to riding the old shoulder again. Eventually, they were high enough that they could see over the ruined buildings to the east. The brown fading into blue signified the end of the marshlands and the beginning of an ocean. _That explains the salt smell, _Jak thought to himself. Before long, the pair found a way inside the tower. Up one more flight of steps and there was the banner.

Jak sauntered forward, and Daxter jumped off his shoulder. Grinning, Jak grabbed the banner and lifted it above his head triumphantly as Daxter began his old victory dance. However, their balloon of "glory days" celebration was promptly deflated when a series of ominous cracks sounded. With time enough only to glance at each other in horror, the floor caved in and the pair plummeted towards the marsh below.

Jak twisted till he was feet first—just in time to rebound off a fabric awning, immediately followed by a screaming Daxter. The awning sent the pair flying off in a huge arc towards a steel cable. Having seen it, Jak landed on the cable and slid down. He nearly lost his balance but quickly recovered by holding the banner out horizontally as a counterweight. Daxter was not so lucky and landed on the cable spread-eagled before sailing into thin air once more. Jak jumped off the cable, landing with ease. Daxter plunged to the ground screaming, landing flat on his stomach.

Jak looked up, shifting the banner in his hands, and smirked. Standing before him was Torn, and a very astounded Torn at that, Jak noted with pride. The two simultaneously turned to see the tower reduced to a pile of rubble. Torn raised his eyebrows and Daxter tried to peel his face off the ground.

"Yeah. I guess you guys are in."

* * *

Keira tossed her head irritably in a futile effort to keep her hair from flying in her face. The last thing she wanted was to go visit Krew. 

Unfortunately, she needed the blob's connections to put up the front of a real garage—although he was completely unaware of her involvement with the Underground—as well as acquire the necessary items for a project of hers. Krew could supply her with the parts to rebuild the Rift Rider. Thanks to the time spent cannibalizing and reassembling the original two years ago, Keira had a number of detailed blueprints stored in her memory banks. Over the past year, she drew them up and determined the parts and equipment she needed.

It didn't matter how accustomed she became to life in Haven City. She wanted to get back home desperately, and it this point she figured she was going back alone. With no sign of her father, Jak, or Daxter in two years, Keira believed they had ended up in different times, different locations, or, worst case scenario, dead. Thinking of them only made her feel worse, as though there was a gaping hole in her heart. Consequently, she spent time honing her "out of sight, out of mind" abilities. She had hardly given any of them a thought in six months.

Arriving at her destination, Keira parked her zoomer and strode into the _Hip Hog_. She muttered a greeting to Sig, inhabiting his usual booth by the door. Quickly sweeping past the winking patrons up to the bar, Keira took a seat before Tess could even look up. Wanting to get business out of the way, she promptly asked the blonde, "Is Krew here?"

Nodding in immediate understanding, Tess gestured with a slender finger, pointing to a booth near the front. The green-clothed blimp hovered next to the booth, talking with some unseen customer inside. "He's wrapping up one of his generic, illegal transactions." The man stood up and after exchanging some last minute words headed out the door. Krew's fan fluttered excitedly as a sickly smile spread across his obese face.

Keira rolled her green eyes before yelling across the room, "Hey, Krew! I need to talk to you."

Looking up at the summons, Krew leered when he saw the aqua-haired elf and lazily floated over to the bar. "Keira, my pet, what can I do for you today?"

Trying not to imagine what perverse thoughts could be going on in that twisted little brain of his, Keira calmly faced him with a disinterested expression, leaning comfortably against the counter. "I'm going back into business."

Krew wheezed, "What kind of business?"

Keira raised an eyebrow, "The racing kind, of course."

"Now why would you want to get back into that awful line of work, ey?" Krew smiled, baring his handful of sharp, yellow teeth, "Surely you know from past experience how…unfulfilling it is."

Keira's voice took on a warning edge, "That's none of your concern. The only thing you need to worry yourself about is supplying me with the best parts possible."

Krew beamed even wider, "And what parts might those be, pet?"

Her hand twitched against the counter in a sudden desire to strangle the mound of lard. Instead, she collectedly reached into her pocket and handed him a folded piece of paper. Krew studied the paper with bright-eyed interest.

"That's just a preliminary list. I expect I'll be ordering more uncommon parts in the future, but that shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Hmm, you sound so very like Vivian, so very confident." Krew leered again, maliciously. "I don't suppose I'll hear of a warrant for your arrest in the future, ey?"

Keira's eyes narrowed. "Cut the shit, Krew. Just get me what I ask, when I ask."

Krew chuckled, an awful, throaty sound that caused every layer of stinking fat to jiggle. "Hoping to settle a few scores, ey?"

"Let's just say I'll be picking up where Viv left off."

* * *

As soon as the pair returned to the Underground headquarters, Torn sent them right back out to the Pumping Station to turn on the water to the slums. In the process, Torn revealed his ex status as a Krimzon Guard commander, a fact that put Jak on edge. Luckily, the Pumping Station provided a great way to take the edge off: a first encounter with metal heads. 

Apparently, the metal heads were only swipers, one of the most basic species—lemmings as far as Jak was concerned. Their plan of attack was to blindly charge forward at any threat, thus making them very easy to kill with only a few well aimed kicks and punches. Jak wanted to face more intelligent foes. He wanted a challenge.

It scared him.

Daxter was really quite a perceptive person, even for all of his complaining, so his friend's dilemma was no secret. He saw beneath Jak's apathetic mask and witnessed a war of twisted pleasure and pure pain. He knew from experience that the cause was the dark eco injections. Gol and Maia had once been great scholars—good people—just like the sages, but their study of and exposure to dark eco ultimately deformed their bodies and minds until they were reduced to lunatics bent on dominating the world. Would Jak end up like them? Would the dark eco destroy who he truly was?

The Pumping Station consisted of ramps, pipes, and turbines wrapping around several towers of dirt and sand right on the ocean surrounded by a number of wind mills. All the palm trees, ferns, and sand briefly reminded Daxter of Sandover. He looked up at his friend's face and briefly saw the innocent countenance of a laughing seventeen-year-old, "borrowing" the fisherman's boat to sneak to Misty Island.

Daxter's musings were soon interrupted, as the pair had arrived at the valve. Glad for the distraction, the ottsel jumped off Jak's shoulder saying, "Ah, the valve! Allow me."

He walked up to the wheel handle and, grabbing one side, pulled up as hard his little body would allow. The valve didn't budge. Daxter leapt in front of the valve and gripped both sides of the wheel, straining till his arms felt as though they would burst. Still no change. Leaping back to the side, he wrapped both arms and legs around the handle and pushed, grinding his teeth and bracing his tail on the ground as he let loose a mighty, "Hrreeeeeeeee!"… at which point Jak hit the valve with an impatient fist, sending it and the ottsel spinning around in circles. The pipe above opened and Daxter along with a healthy amount of dust were sucked up inside.

Daxter yelled as he was sucked through the smelly darkness—stopping only when he collided with a bend in the pipe. After several more straightaways going up, down, and all around, Daxter crashed into the end of the pipe, helplessly smushed. Barely able to move at all, it was only with great effort that the ottsel called out in a small, heavily strained voice, "Jak…help," the pressure pushing against Daxter's backside increased, along with his discomfort, "Jak, help," the pressure grew so great that he could barely even squeak out, "Jak…please…_help!_" A rusty squealing sounded to his right and the wall in front of him disappeared. Slowly, his head slid out of the pipe into fresh air. After much wiggling, he managed to work his arms out and promptly placed them on the pipe to push himself the rest of the way when the pressure behind him increased tenfold. Daxter remained in the pipe only a second longer before he shot out followed by a spray of water.

After another squeal, the water stopped. Sensing an "I told you so" remark, Daxter raised a small hand. "Don't say it. Don't even chuckle!" He pointed at Jak before letting his arm fall back down. "Next time," he raised his head and glared at the grinning elf, "_you _turn the valve."

Once Daxter recovered, they headed back to HQ. The ottsel was once again struck by how shabby it looked.

Past a sliding wall featuring a hammer cracking the baron's emblem, through an automatic door, and down a narrow staircase, the Underground had nothing more to show than a wreck of a headquarters. Six sets of bunks served like a kind of hallway into the main body of the room. Stacked crates inhabited all available corners, and an enormous, rusty furnace burned to the left. Open pipes and beams criss-crossed over an unfinished ceiling. Aside from a ladder leading to the next floor, the back wall was almost entirely hidden by maps, posters, and blueprints. A similarly littered hexagonal table sat in a sunken section of floor in the middle of the area. Torn stood behind the table, studiously examining a piece of paper as the light fixture above flickered.

He looked up at their entrance, eyes gleaming excitedly, icy glare absent from its usual seat on his prominent brow. "The Slum's water is back on! I'd love to see the heads roll when the Baron finds out!" A malicious grin spread across Torn's face.

Jak couldn't help but feel irritated at the ex-KG's satisfaction. "Yeah, I'm sure he's losing lots of sleep over this armpit of the city." He jerked his head around the room, gesturing at its sorry state. "We've done what you asked. Now, when do we see The Shadow?"

Torn assumed his old scowl and promptly directed it at the younger elf's impetuosity. "When I say so, _if _I say so. But before I even think about it I want you to take care of an ammo dump we've IDd in the Fortress." As he spoke, Torn pointed at a schematic of the Fortress on the table. "Lots of krimzon guards, constant patrols. We know it's vulnerable, and the Underground needs _you_," with an authoritative swipe of his hand he sent Daxter sprawling on the other side of the table, "to blow up all the ammo you find inside. Get _all _of it, and we'll deal a body blow to the Baron." He tossed a krimzon guard security pass on the table.

After dusting himself off in as dignified a manner as possible, Daxter proceeded yelling his disapproval. "Now wait just one minute! You're sending _us _in, tough guy, so what's with this 'we'll deal a body blow' stuff?"

Just as Daxter was about to expound on his so-far ignored need for sustenance and sleep, Jak cut in, "That's fine. I want the Baron to know that it's _me _who's hurting him."

* * *

any good? i really don't like a lot of this chapter and once again feel like i suck at writing action scenes, at least when they're constantly happening. maybe i'm just not as good working with jak as i am with keira. who knows, but i figure it can only go up from here.

review or i'll sick my crocadog on you!


	8. Getting the Hang of It

oy, another almost two month update. i've actually had a pretty decent chunk of time to work on this, but not the inspiration. i've really been trying to crack down on it in the past couple days though, so here's chapter 8! 

i get the feeling that daxter tends to sound more like a spidey sense than an actual character. he's always yelling out warnings and such. this chapter mainly consists of set up, and after this i think i'm finally gonna start jumping ahead a bit. now keira is getting neglected with absurdly small sections, and much ass-kicking occurs. jak has also developed a deep love of curse words and uses them regularly.

update: i was really pissed off when i realized i forgot to include a bit with the loudspeaker, so here's the fixed version.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Getting the Hang of It**

Jak glared at the towering fortress with such palpable hatred that pedestrians rubbernecked to get a better look at the angry youth. He remained rooted to the spot for awhile, both desiring and dreading a trip back into Haven's most feared structure. Less than twenty-four hours ago he was strapped to a table deep inside, feeling each and every cell in his body explode with dark eco. Only after Daxter pointed out the number of people staring at them did the young elf steel himself and walk forward.

After ascending a ramp, Jak quickly flashed the KG security pass Torn gave him. The door slid open, and he stepped inside.

The door clanged shut behind him and the locks clicked as they rotated back into place. He was inside the fortress. Jak found himself unable to move. He felt icy cold but sweaty, heavy-limbed but light-headed. He felt like a cornered animal. Much as he hated to admit it, he was afraid.

An orange paw fluttered in front of his face. "Jak? What is it?" Daxter's furry head popped into view, "You're pale as Samos' toenail clippings."

Jak shook his head and said more defensively than he meant to, "Nothing! I'm just…" hesitating, Jak took a step forward, unsure if he was even capable of such a simple action, "…fine. I'm fine."

At first, Jak's complete attention was held by an enormous machine directly in front of him. A single spiked wheel, taller than Jak and strangely reminiscent of the Bird Lady's old rolling pin, dominated the machine's appearance. A rotating gun just barely peeked over the top. Jak eyed the machine warily, but when it remained motionless he turned his attention elsewhere. They were in a multi-leveled room lined in computer consoles and control panels. Flashing buttons and indicators cast a strange glow on the high walls. Absolutely everything consisted of cold dark metal, accentuating the Fortress' unnatural and corrupt energy. Up one level and towards the back of the room stood a doorway, blocked by throbbing pulses of blue electricity. This left Jak with the only option of taking a door in the left wall. Feeling triumphant at having overcome his anxiety, Jak strode boldly forward, not noticing the small red laser that flashed near the floor.

"Uh, Jak?" Said elf raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Daxter but kept walking. The ottsel's voice grew panicked. "Jak! Watch out for the—"

Jak stepped through and Daxter was cut off by the sound of a huge motor roaring to life. The pair whipped their eyes around to look over their shoulders and simultaneously dropped jaws as the computer said, "Unauthorized use of Fortress door. Activating security tank." The deadly machine proceeded rolling towards them, its gun taking aim.

Jak wasted no time in bolting down the hallway, and Daxter wasted no time in yelling his complaints. "Are you deaf? Why the hell didn't you stop??"

Jak yelled back as he dodged a flaming bullet, "I woulda stopped if you just said 'stop'! How the fuck am I supposed to identify a sensor before I se—" He was cut off when a bullet caught him in the right shoulder, punching a clean hole back to front just beneath the clavicle bone. He grunted and stumbled, almost getting shot again in the process.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Jak entered a room in which only a narrow pathway of floor circled up and around a huge, black pit. Ducking to the left, he was briefly sheltered by a wall before the security tank came roaring around the corner. Continuing up the pathway, Jak watched as the machine took the right path instead which ran into a grated wall. Jak himself had only to drop back down to the security tank's level on the other side of the wall and then he could continue through the Fortress tank free. He was quickly proved wrong when the behemoth machine crashed through the grate like it was tissue paper.

Jak ran down the twisting path, dodging tank fire, when a red laser crossed his leg.

Daxter yelled, "Watch out for the guns!" and Jak sprung into the air just in time to avoid more bullets. Several turrets were stationed around the room, all with motion sensing lasers attached. Only by performing a series of acrobatics was Jak able to avoid further injury.

In the next room, he ran towards several stacked crates in a corner of the area. After scaling the crates and swinging to the upper level via pole, he entered a power room in which two generators spun in lazy circles. Strange arms stuck out from the generators' tops, supporting small platforms, and a glass-domed power source popped out of the center shaft, a string of sparks running between tow metal rods within. The overall look was that of a metallic rotating flower. On the opposite wall he could see another gate barred by electricity. The tank was once again detained by an obstacle below, and he used the opportunity to take a breather, gripping his shoulder.

Daxter gasped loudly right in Jak's ear, a fact he didn't much appreciate. He wondered what could possibly be wrong now when the ottsel yelped, "Jak! Lookit your hand!"

Removing said body part from his wound, Jak harshly sucked in his breath and felt his stomach drop. His hand was coated not in red blood but a black liquid that flashed violet in the light. He said in a horrified whisper, "Dark eco…"

The screeching sound of metal on metal split the air as the security tank smashed its way into the room. "Shit!" Jak cursed and, quickly deciding on a plan of action, made a running leap for the nearest generator and smashed its power source with a mighty kick. A bullet whizzed by his head, and he put on an extra burst of speed. He quickly jumped to the next generator and disabled it, causing the electric shield to sputter and die. After dodging a final spray of bullets, he leapt into the doorway and ran down a short hallway, finally rid of the tank.

He entered a room with three separate sections, all divided by grating. Jak saw he'd have to cross moving platforms and weave his way through the grating to get to the exit… and take out seven guards along the way. Two stood across the platforms directly in front of him, and Jak noticed a Krimzon Guard crate lying on the ground nearby. A strong desire to open it seized his body, causing his hands to move of their own volition.

One guard shifted his weight in a manner that suggested he was tired of standing and asked his comrade, "Have they found Mar's Tomb yet?"

Lifting the lid, a purple glow emanated from within. His heart pounding, Jak reached inside and Daxter yelled, "Wait, Jak! Don't touch it!"

The other guard responded grudgingly, "They wouldn't tell us if they did."

The dark eco brushed Jak's skin, seeping in upon contact with a sizzle. His muscles contracted as a wave of ecstatic fury swept through him…

Jak raced across the platforms and grabbed the nearest guard by the helmet, twisting till his neck snapped. _They won't tell you if you're dead either, _Jak thought with a sadistic smile as he turned to the other guard and threw him past the platforms into the inky blackness below…and the darkness within the channeler stirred.

Jak stumbled as the red mist seeped over his vision. He could dimly hear Daxter's frantic inquiries and struggled to part the mist and keep the demon locked inside. But his mind was sinking, disappearing into the darkness…he felt so tired.

Jak looked in a dazed and disconnected manner at his hands as his skin paled and his fingernails grew into long, sharp claws. He vaguely knew that he should fight harder, that he should keep control. He could barely hear Daxter's voice. With an intense effort he forced his mouth to work and growled rather than said, "I can't stop it!"

The darkness took him.

Letting loose a primal scream, Jak crossed the next set of platforms and swiped at two krimzon guards as soon as they were within range, slicing through metal and flesh alike. Twin red fountains sprayed from their bodies as their innards spilled out. Jak licked drops of blood off his lips and rounded the next corner, encountering three more guards. All three lay mutilated on the floor in seconds. The transformed elf didn't slow down as he approached another two guards. When he was no more than ten feet away, huge spikes popped up from below, blocking his path with the promise of swift and sharp pain. Instantly reacting, he leapt into the air with superhuman strength and, clearing the spikes, landed on an unfortunate guard.

It wasn't until he was standing in an industrial room that the mist cleared and Jak was himself. Gasping, he clutched his head and nearly doubled over as he returned to his body and purple rays of dark eco pulsed over his skin.

Daxter leapt from one end of the elf's shoulder to the other in an effort to dodge the dangerous substance. "Yeesh! What the hell brought that on?"

Jak shook his head, still panting. "…After I touched the dark eco I started feeling…violent."

"So dark eco makes you transform?" The ottsel shrugged. "Well then steer clear of the black goo, big guy," Daxter said as he stepped to the side of a lingering dark eco ray, "or else I won't be able to take you anywhere."

Once Jak was recovered, the two rode up a series of conveyer belts and finally reached their destination.

The ammo dump inhabited an enormous room with a vaulted ceiling. Bright red light fixtures on the walls illuminated barrels upon barrels stacked around the room. In its center, a number of smaller ammunition stores surrounded a huge silo plastered in the Baron's emblem.

Jak was wondering how on earth he would go about blowing up the stores much less the silo when he saw something glint out of the corner of his eye. After heading over to the offending barrel, he picked up a shiny red card. "That's a security pass!" Daxter said in an excited voice, "We need those to get through city checkpoints. That crappy one Tattooed Wonder gave us only has access to the Fortress."

A clanking sound below caught the pair's attention. Seeing a barred grate in the floor, Jak lay down and looked through.

Two krimzon guards stood next to stacked barrels of eco. They intently stared at a huge ventilation pipe. The bars covering the pipe had been broken by a pair of metal head brutes.

One of the two guards below grunted out, "These barrels are the latest shipment of eco. The Baron says take them and get out!"

The brutes growled, their skull gems glowing a menacing yellow, at which the guards lifted their rifles, aiming for their glowing skull gems. Still growling, the metal heads crawled towards the barrels.

Jak stared at the scene with a mixture of confusion and disgust. "Metal heads in the city? Why are the guards giving them eco?" The implications of such facts were dangerous indeed.

Jak's musings came to a standstill when a mechanical roar sounded to his right. Rolling to the side and jumping up, he watched as another security tank proceeded rolling in his direction. Cursing, Jak ducked low to avoid a bullet and looked for cover. The only place to hide was behind the ammo, which wouldn't do him any good as it would explode from a minor nick. Jak's thoughts did a double take as a plan dawned on him. Bolting towards an ammunition store, he stood still right in front of it long enough for the security tank to lock on. He jumped aside just as the machine fired, causing the store to blow up in a shower of metal and flames. The female computer calmly issued warnings as a siren whined.

With the procedure down, Jak made quick work of the remaining stores, at which the computer announced a ten-second countdown to the ammo dump's self-destruction.

Daxter wailed, "There's no way out! And I never even gave that hot Underground babe a squeeze!"

Jak's eyes darted around the room as he continued dodging tank fire when they fell upon an open door in the far wall. Steeling himself for a final sprint, Jak rushed towards the door and leapt out into the night air just as the ammo dump exploded. The blast propelled him forward, causing him to trip rather than land on the nearest roof and fall three stories to the cracked pavement below.

Lifting himself up on his elbows, Jak shook his head and wondered if every mission would put him through this much abuse. He froze when he felt a wiggling beneath his back, shortly followed by Daxter poking his head out, gasping for breath.

The ottsel rolled his eyes. "This place has too much excitement. We need to move back to the country!"

* * *

One safe house sacked, two Underground members and three civilians found dead, and a stolen shipment of assorted weaponry. With a deep sigh, Torn leaned his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands. Hoping to alleviate a splitting headache, he gently massaged his temples. This was the third attack on a safe house in two weeks. If things continued this way, they would soon be fighting a losing battle, and the former KG commander was being spread far too thin in the process. He scowled down at the file containing the latest wave of bad news.

A dramatic voice split the air in so unpleasant a manner as to nearly cause him to flinch. "The Demolition Duo has returned! One barbecued ammo dump served up hot!"

Torn looked up from the file at the orange rat, who jumped off his shoulder perch onto the table. He was about to calmly respond with some blistering insult when Daxter's companion caught his attention.

Jak was covered in sprays of blood and slumped very slightly as he pressed a dirty hand to his right shoulder, around which a soiled cloth was wrapped. He moved not with his usual irritating swagger but stiffly. Only after study could one even detect the slightly labored edge to his breathing or the imperceptibly tense muscles in his young face. The upstart was making a truly valiant effort to hide his own pain. Torn had to refrain from curling his lip up in amusement.

"Looks like you had a grand old time."

Jak scowled at the older elf, "Oh yeah. Security tanks, swarms of guards, and falls from third story windows are _really _my idea of fun."

Torn chuckled and stood up. "Well I wouldn't want you to not feel fresh enough for another round tomorrow. I'll show you around HQ."

The ottsel looked around the room with a thoroughly unimpressed expression before bursting out, "Show us around HQ? What the hell is there to see?" he donned a vacant smile and a dull tone of voice, "Welcome to the Undergound Headquarters, part of the 'Ugliest Architecture in Haven City' tour package! To your left you'll see an actual furnace, embellished in ten years worth of rust. Now that's quality decorating, folks!" Daxter was promptly knocked off his feet by an airborne eco cartridge.

Torn headed over to the section of wall directly to the right of the furnace and flipped open a panel. "If either of you newbs actually thinks the Underground consists of one shabby room with a few lousy supplies," he quickly entered a code in the keypad, causing the wall to slide up, "then you're sadly underestimating our resources."

Jak and Daxter walked over and peered down the revealed hallway, which was considerably less grungy than the main room. Torn noted with satisfaction the pair's humbled expressions. He turned on his heel and headed inside.

After ten feet, the hallway expanded into a sizable training facility. Two large square mats sat in the center of the room, one currently occupied by two members practicing hand-to-hand combat, and several gun ranges occupied the back wall. The right wall was dotted by several doors and split by another hallway.

"Welcome to the bulk of the Underground Headquarters." He indicated the area they were standing in with a broad sweep of his arm. "The wall outside is our first buffer zone, the room behind us a second, on the off-chance that the KG come busting in." Turning around, he headed to a sliding door to the left of the entrance and, after entering another code, opened it and invited the two to look inside. Dozens of racks lined the walls, all filled to the brim with guns, grenades, and ammunition. "This is the armory, our main cache of stolen weapons and ammo."

Jak's eyes took on an excited glint when he laid eyes on the guns inside and he flashed a dangerous grin. Torn briefly noted he shouldn't be allowed to go into the armory without supervision or he'd wind up blowing a hole in the wall.

Pulling the younger elf out by his good shoulder, Torn closed the door and walked to the next. "This is our supply room. Everything from rations to medical equipment is stored here." He ignored the rodent's muttered comments about shit on a shingle and tossed Jak a first-aid kit.

He couldn't, however, ignore Daxter's next outburst, "OK, Tattooed Wonder, I don't wanna hear any more about cheap supplies or crappy food. I just want to crash! You've already sent us out on three missions our first day! Where the hell are we gonna sleep?"

"Outside if you don't quit barking," Torn responded in an edgy tone. He headed towards the right wall and opened one of its many doors. Inside was a tiny room in which stood a single bed and a couple storage units.

"All these doors down here are showers and private quarters for member use. Take this," he handed Jak a comm. unit, "if I need you for a mission I'll contact you. Otherwise, you can come and go as you please." He absently gestured up and down the hallway and was about to head back to the main room when he saw a peculiar expression on Jak's face. He was left with little time to ponder just what the youth was thinking when he spoke up.

"Look, can we have a room somewhere else?"

A muscle near the corner of Torn's mouth twitched and Daxter immediately protested. "Whaaat? Why? Look at this room! It's got a bed! A real bed!"

Torn scowled darkly, amazed at Jak's impudence. "And what's wrong with this one?"

Jak scowled right back, not in the slightest bit threatened by the tall Underground member. "It's my condition."

"What makes you think should I accommodate your request?"

"For the past two years I've been in—" Jak hesitated, not particularly interested in revealing his fugitive status and getting unwanted questions, before deciding on a vague answer, "I don't do well with small spaces."

Torn deeply wished to shoot his request down like a he would an errant metal head flyer but thought better of it. Kor had mentioned something about a berserker transformation or whatever it was. Maybe the boy's strange request had to do with that…or maybe he was just a freak with a personal space problem. Either way, Torn didn't like it one bit.

"Come on."

Upon reentering the main room Torn led the way to the back wall and climbed up the ladder. Once standing on the above floor, he briefly surveyed it out of habit while waiting for Jak to climb up. The only light in the area filtered through cracks in the mostly boarded up windows, dimly revealing grey, peeling walls and barren, grimy floors. The sound of dripping water perpetually echoed from an unknown source. Continuing around the corner, Torn ascended a creaking staircase, his boots stirring up small clouds of dust with every step. Up another ladder, they reached the top floor and entered a relatively large room.

Hefty chunks of the wood boarding up the windows had been ripped away, allowing one to easily see the alley below. In a corner opposite the windows a lumpy mattress lay on some crates, an eco lantern sitting on a barrel next to it. Several Krimzon Guard crates stood stacked in another corner. One was kicked open, revealing ammo cartridges. The room had a musty smell, and muffled scratching noises indicated a sizable rat population lived in the walls.

"This is our bird's nest." Torn jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the bulk of the room. "Whenever the KG get too close we send a sniper up here to play 'pop off the stoolies in red.'"

Daxter stared around the room incredulously. "Waddya mean 'bird's nest?' This is vermin central!"

Torn grinned, "Perfect. You'll fit right in."

He was about to turn and leave when Jak held up a hand as if suddenly remembering something and said, "We saw something odd while torching that ammo. The Baron's guards were giving barrels filled with eco to a group of metal heads."

"Really!" Torn stroked his chin thoughtfully, pale eyes twinkling, "The Shadow will be interested to hear that," he kneeled and prepared to climb back down the ladder and said before Daxter could protest, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do than babysit a kid and his rat."

* * *

Jak stared silently at his quarters, ignoring Daxter's ranting. Heading over to the bed, he sat down, his weight causing the mattress to sag several inches. He patted the mattress, testing its pliability, before standing and ripping off the bedding.

The sudden action caused Daxter to stop talking for a moment. "Jak, what are you doin'?"

The elf paid no attention as he kicked the remaining boards off a window and, leaning out, tossed the blankets up to the roof.

"Uh…Jak?"

After grabbing the eco lantern Jak stepped onto the window sill, gripping the edge, and turned to swiftly examine the outside wall before reaching over and sidestepping out of sight. A series of scraping sounds followed by thumping overhead signified that he had successfully climbed up to the roof despite his injured shoulder. After jumping up to the window and enduring a mad scramble up the wall, Daxter joined him.

He saw his friend laying out the blankets next to a black, rusty chimney undoubtedly belonging to the furnace below and threw up his little hands in exasperation. "What the hell are you doin' up here, Jak? You wanna die of hypothermia now?"

Jak didn't look over as he turned on the lantern. "It's not that cold."

Daxter pointed at the roof beneath his furry feet. "But there's a bed down there! It may be flea-ridden, but it's still a bed!"

Jak said for the second time that night, "I don't do well with small spaces." He opened up the first-aid kit and began unwrapping his shoulder.

"'Small spaces?' The bird's nest is five times the size of that first room! Even if it's half as comfortable why would ya give that up for th—"

Jak turned, scowling at Daxter so fiercely the ottsel flinched, and yelled, "I've been locked up in a cell the size of a lurker outhouse, without any windows, nearly twenty-four seven for two fucking years! I'll go insane if I'm expected to relax and go beddy-bye in an enclosed space regardless of how goddamn comfy it is! I've been sleeping on a concrete slab! I can't sleep on anything soft now! What the hell makes you think I can just magically readjust to a warm room and a cushy bed after living like that? Not to mention the fact that I'm some freak who can't control this…this _thing _inside me! Who knows who might be around the next time it comes out! And if you don't like it then _you _sleep in the bird's nest!"

Jak violently yanked the rest of the bandage off his shoulder, wincing when it tore at some dried blood. He glared at the wound with fresh anger when he saw his blood was still as black as in the fortress.

Jak rooted through the kit, a little disinclined to believe that it, being of this wretched world, would contain something useful. He was soon proved wrong when his hand closed on a clear squishy package that glowed green. Jak eagerly lifted the green eco out of the kit. Having grown up under the tutelage of the Sage of Green Eco, he was comforted by simply looking at the substance after such a long time without it.

He set about figuring how to open its container. After several failed attempts to muscle a hole in the package with his hands, Jak clamped his teeth on a corner and ripped it open. Holding the torn corner over his shoulder, he squeezed the package till a quivering green blob fell onto the wound. He yelped in surprise when the green eco not only failed to repair his wound but filled his shoulder with incredible pain. He clenched his hands into tight fists and nearly doubled over, his face contorted as he struggled to keep from crying out. He sat there quivering until the pain subsided.

At some dimly heard inquiry of Daxter's, Jak mumbled through gritted teeth, "I don't know, but my channeling powers…it felt…it felt like the injections." Sparing a glance at his shoulder, he saw the skin around the wound looked burned.

Daxter scratched his head, saying, "So because you can use dark eco to turn into a berserker thing you can't channel other kinds anymore?"

Jak felt his whole being sink at such a prospect. He said slowly, "When I could channel green, blue, yellow, and red eco I couldn't even touch dark, so maybe…maybe it's been reversed."

The pair was silent for awhile, absorbing the information. For Jak, the realization was like a blow to the heart—like he had lost something very dear. He had channeled eco for as long as he cold remember.

He was roused from his thoughts when he felt a small paw push him up straight. Daxter took a bottle containing some sanitizing liquid and several gauze pads out of the kit and set about cleaning Jak's wound. The elf flinched when the cool liquid splashed over his maimed flesh.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me about Samos and Keira yet."

Jak turned to look at Daxter, wide-eyed and confused. Samos and Keira? Although he desperately clung to his memories of them while in prison, the dark eco had done its work. Now he hardly remembered what they looked like. How would he react if he saw them again? How would they? Would Samos still recognize him? Would Keira still care for him? Was it possible Daxter had found them?

The ottsel read his mind. "Naw, I haven't got a clue where they are. Haven City's pretty damn big, you know."

Jak looked away into space, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder. "Haven City…is that what this place is called?"

"You didn't know? That old fart from last night said so."

Jak didn't answer. Daxter paused in his ministrations before saying, "Don't worry, big guy. You'll get the hang of it again."

Jak grunted, his thoughts already far away from the Underground rooftop in Haven, searching for unspoiled memories of a simple little village where an aqua-haired girl waited on the pristine beach.

* * *

Keira grabbed a grimy cloth and wiped the sweat off her forehead, sighing.

In just two days of nonstop cleaning, repairing, and restocking she had managed to put the garage and apartment to rights, however grudgingly. Her first shipment from Krew was on its way, and Errol hadn't reared his ugly head just yet.

Placing hands on her hips, Keira turned in a slow circle, surveying her work. _Axle's Garage _was back on its feet. Vivian would be proud.

Shaking her head, Keira headed outside, away from the stadium, and towards the canal split streets of the Business District. She needed to walk and did so brusquely, hoping to take her mind off the old days, yet the exercise only caused memories to flood back in greater force. She missed the comfort of Vivian's confidence and curt words of advice. She missed the glow of Ryker's kindness and incessant flirtation. She missed plugging through repairs in the garage and going shooting in the scrap yard. She even missed the lumpy old couch she slept on—and she craved for the kind of soothing that comes from physical contact, innocent or not.

She passed the tool shop where she first met Vivian and the café Ryker loved taking her to. Any little object she laid eyes on held the wisp of business with Vivian or an outing with Ryker. Everything still fell in their shadows, silent witnesses to their double-lives.

_Why am I being so stupid? They're dead! _Keira punched the nearest wall in frustration before turning to lean against it and heavily sighing. _Why…why do I have to think about them now… _She glared at several storefronts, as if they knew the answer but wouldn't tell her, when her eyes fell on a familiar sign: _The Finest Baked Goods in Haven City!_ She noted with a chuckle that the sign sat in a window three times the size of the original, revealing a much bigger, expanded bakery within. She smiled at the memory of her first purchase in Haven, before she knew the rarity and value of Precursor orbs. Evidently, the shopkeeper had branched out from her once tiny business.

And then the sight of the bakery brought on memories of her first day in Haven. Her gut clenched and her heart squeezed when she remembered the constant undercurrent of fear she had experienced from waking up in the alley to falling asleep behind the pipe. She was nearly raped; she killed her first man; she sobbed Jak's name over and over again as she lay on the cold, hard ground.

Keira shook her head, berating herself. She hadn't thought of him in so long, hadn't allowed herself to. She trudged away from the bakery, struggling to shove the blonde hero far out of her mind. She attempted to force her attention on the conversations of those around her, but she could barely catch a coherent sentence in her hurry. Keira stopped walking and, pricking her ears up, strained to listen for some thought not her own. And then a single thread rose above the din of the crowd. One of the Baron's loudspeakers stood by a nearby wall, booming out his dreck for all to hear.

"…_looking for a rebel fugitive who has caused the city considerable damage of late. This man is armed and extremely—" _curious, Keira headed over to the loudspeaker, "—_dangerous and can somehow change into a monstrous creature! We have reports he is working with the metal heads to subvert your city and your safety. Report all sightings immediately!_"

Keira glanced at the loudspeaker's base; it blazoned a wanted poster. Looking around, she saw several plastered up and down the street. Turning back to the loudspeaker, she examined the poster, her interest piqued by a man who could merit this much attention from the Baron.

Her eyes widened slightly at an image of not a man, but a nightmare.

A creature with ghostly skin and lethal claws stood snarling in a Fortress hallway, surrounded by the defaced bodies of three krimzon guards. It hunched like an animal, brandishing its claws with a sick look of pleasure. Spatters and pools of blood covered the floor and creature alike, but the gore couldn't begin to compare to its eyes. They were like pitch black, soulless marbles.

Beneath the image Keira read not a name but a number—5_1007_—and beneath that a list of offenses: _Breaking out of prison, resisting arrest, assault, treason, seditious conduct, advocating rebellion, 38 counts of murder_. She raised her eyebrows and looked at the picture again. _That's one hell of a fugitive… _she thought, and shivers ran down her spine. Something about the monster intensely disturbed her, making the air seem colder. Convulsing slightly, Keira turned from the poster and walked over to the railing so she could stare at the water instead.

Compared with the scummy waters of the port the canal was relatively clean. With the reflection of the sky overhead it even looked blue, a beautiful deep sapphire that sparkled in the sunlight. Keira half-closed her eyes and felt herself grow slightly limp as a nostalgic haze seeped into her being. The lapping of the water against the cement wall turned into foamy breakers undulating on golden sand, the sound became the crashing of waves, and a pair of innocent, laughing eyes peered up at her from below the glittering surface.

"Jak…" She spoke it gently, allowing the hum of his name to linger in the air.

* * *

so how's my exploration of characters and what's going on in their little minds working? i've been really struggling to properly convey what i feel to be their motivations and feelings, so do give me feedback. how's my version of the underground? what do you think of jak's readustment issues? and did anyone get my little military reference? 

review or death shall become you! ...or something like that...


	9. Hurry It Up, Slow It Down

OMFG, IT'S ANOTHER CHAPTER! gah, i've had no time or energy for this. school was getting crazy for awhile, the college app. process continues, and i've got the lead role in a musical, thus this is the longest it's ever taken me to update (and it's the shortest chapter yet).

anyways, here's chapter nine, and i've finally skipped around a little. my own interpretation of things continues to get more complicated, and i'm as impatient as ever to get to the juicy events coming up (probably far, far in the future). do enjoy!

* * *

** Those Magic Changes**

**Hurry It Up, Slow It Down**

Jak growled as he smacked aside another scorpion with a skull cracking blow of his gun. No sooner than the metal head hit the ground, several more popped up out of subterranean burrows to take its place.

"How many more of these are gonna show up?" Jak said in a voice tense with irritation as he welcomed the new arrivals with eco-charged bullets to head.

"Who knows." Daxter replied dryly, "Scorpions are abundant little buggers."

Jak swiftly kicked a scorpion as it leapt towards him, sending it flying into a nearby support pillar. "They won't be much longer if they don't leave us the hell alone."

Jak jumped onto a conveyer belt and turned to view the scarred valley below as he rode up. A number of conveyer belts, cranes, and eco wells rose out of blasted pits, casting long shadows over piled mounds of dirt. Drills worked their way in and out of rock walls and enormous crates suspended over yawning chasms transported excess earth out of the way. Pools of dark eco shimmered on the sides of the site, and a faint glowing speck in the distance was all that could be seen of the warp gate where they entered. Mingled scents of dust and metal lingered in the air, drying the throat upon inhalation. Despite the machinery busy at work, the site was deserted, giving it the eerie sense of a ghost town. The Strip Mine was not a place Jak wanted to spend much time at.

"This Vin guy better be worth it."

After just two weeks in the Underground, Jak was not only back on his feet but leaping to new and dangerous heights. He recovered unusually quickly from his bullet wound, so quickly that he wondered if the dark eco had given his body the ability to heal faster. After delivering a package of eco ore to the arms dealer Krew and agreeing to work for the blimp, he had gained a morph gun and two mods, and it wasn't long at all before he was highly proficient with them. He had been sent out on a number of odd jobs by both Krew and Torn and in the process learned to easily navigate around the Slums and Industrial District, honing his emotional mask to the point where he seemed as heartless as any dreg in the city. He became far more deadly than the boy from Sandover ever could have. He was stronger and faster. He had weapons at his disposal. He could transform into a crazed berserker.

And beneath it all he felt crushed by the weight of his shell.

Jak took aim and fired, killing three metal head flyers in rapid succession, before making a running jump on to a passing crate. He looked absently to his left. The sun was much closer to the horizon then when he arrived.

He leapt off the crate and, after disposing of two more metal heads, noted a structure built into the tiny platform. Small is it was with only a single door, it could only be a control room of some sort—a conjecture supported by the glowing warp gate to the building's right. Seeing no better path of action, Jak sauntered up to the door and pressed a large red button to its right. The door slid open with hiss.

A tremulous voice rang out, "AAAGH! Stay back!"

Jak obligingly jumped back several steps when bullets shot out of the laboratory, landing in showers of sparks at his feet. He ducked to the wall beside the door, and Daxter yelped, "Do something, Jak! This guy's crazy!"

Rolling his eyes, Jak yelled, "Hey, are you Vin?" A random spray of bullets continued to char the floor just outside the door. "We're here to help! Torn sent us!"

The voice screeched again, "Stay back!"

Really getting tired of any further delays to getting the hell out of the Strip Mine, Jak yelled in a louder, angrier voice, "Look, if we were here to kill you, you wouldn't be talking right now!"

The bullets stopped and Jak cautiously leaned around the doorframe. Amid a sea of glowing blue monitors a small, wiry foreman stood quaking behind a console, an eco pistol held in one hand. He wore a wrinkled white shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and a baggy pair of brown trousers, held up by suspenders. Odd tufts of white hair sprang out of his head like haphazard patches of grass and countless worry lines adorned his bony face. He wore fingerless gloves, worn thin at the palm from extensive use, and goggles sat beneath eyebrows that seemed perpetually peaked together in an expression of anxiety. His head, hands, and feet all seemed far too big for his gangly appendages; the only other part of his body with much meat on it was a pot belly that strained against the confines of his tiny shirt. All in all, Vin looked like a shriveled up pear.

He looked Jak and Daxter up and down with a frantic twitch of his head and collapsed on the console. "Oh, friendlies? Oh thank goodness! We…" he glanced behind them, suddenly confused, "so… w-where's the army?"

Daxter raised an eyebrow. "Ah… we're it."

Vin looked appalled. "What? Just you two? What do they think I'm _worth??_"

Jak glared at the foreman, causing him to flinch. "I'm beginning to wonder that myself. If you want, you can stay here and be metal meat," the elf turned towards the nearby warp gate, "but Daxter and I are leaving before those monsters come back."

Vin rushed out of the lab, still wielding his pistol, clearly more terrified of being left behind than not having a legion to safeguard him. Jak leapt through the warp gate without a second glance.

* * *

"Hey hey, cherries! How's headhuntin' for the man goin' lately?" 

The deep, velvety voice came from an enormous man who stood a good two heads taller than Jak. He wore what appeared to be hundreds of pounds worth of heavy-duty armor that glinted a dusty silver in the dim lights of the Hip Hog Heaven Saloon. The shoulder pads were fashioned in the likeness of a particularly nasty metal head, vicious spikes shooting out above lifeless yellow eyes. Bulging muscles the color of chocolate occasionally managed to peek out from beneath the armor, and a slightly curved head piece shot out behind his fierce face. A red lens jutted out where the man's right eye should have been, the startling green of his left complementing the device. He sat in a booth, his height and broad shoulders creating an image not unlike a fully-grown yakow laying in a stall built for a calf.

Daxter answered before Jak could say a word, jumping onto the table, "Irritating, Sig, very irritating. Torn's giving us all the crappy missions, and the last job Krew sent us on had us traipsing around the sewers. I smelled worse than a metal head's rear for days!" Jak slid in the opposite seat shaking his head.

Sig laughed as he grabbed a mug with a huge gloved hand. "Yeah, he has a penchant for dealin' rookies the worst jobs around." He lifted the mug and drained half its frothy contents in a single gulp.

Jak placed both elbows on the table and sagged forward, roughly running a dirty hand through his hair. "Well the worst jobs don't tend to be that ripe for picking skulls."

Sig tightened his large lips in sympathy. "Nobody giving you the information you want, huh?"

The younger elf shook his head. "All I get is little tidbits now and then, but I always wind up with more questions than when I started."

He closed his eyes and scowled, his thoughts drifting back one week to the Water Slums.

* * *

_Jak stood before the shack, eyeing its battered door warily. He had allowed the tingling in his fingers to take over, allowed his body to respond to the strange, siren ring he both did and didn't hear and follow it. As he approached the shack, the unearthly ringing rose in intensity till it was a deep hum that vibrated through his bones. Why had he felt drawn to this hovel?_

_Before he could give another moment's thought to the situation, the door slid open, revealing a sight that filled Jak with a mixture of excited nostalgia and mysterious dread. He stepped inside, ignoring Daxter's mutterings, and tried to repress the desire to run away as he calmly walked up the short length of the shack. A Precursor oracle stood against the back wall amongst hundreds of dripping candles, its eyes glowing not with the perpetual motion of power cells but an alien blue that spoke of untold wisdom. _

_The humming grew louder, reminding Jak unsettlingly of his first injection cycle in the fortress, and crescendoed into a shimmering curtain of inaudible sounds that throbbed through the air. Suddenly, a rasping, ancient voice like two boulders grinding against one another boomed out from oracle, causing Daxter to fall off Jak's shoulder in surprise._

"_Greetings, great warrior. I sense there is a dark rage burning within you, and in time, it will destroy you with its madness." Jak felt a thrill of fear run down his spine. _No, _he thought, _I can't die before I kill the Baron.

"_Only the last power of the Precursors can save you. Destroy my enemies, those creatures that you call the metal heads, bring me twenty-five of their skull gems and I will teach you how to use this power."_

_Jak frowned. Kill metal heads for Precursor powers? He smiled maliciously, "Sounds like a sweet deal to me." He reached inside his belt pouch, throwing the requested number on the floor before the oracle. _

_The last skull gem had barely hit the floor before purple rays of quivering light shot out of the statue and gripped him in electric pain. Dark eco flooded his system and he ground his teeth together to keep silent. He was dimly aware of his feet leaving the floor as he twisted in agony like a worm on a hook. _

"_You do well to rid the world of this metal scourge." Jak felt horns split his skull and his nails lengthen into knifes. "As a reward, I grant you a dark power." _

_Suddenly as he had been caught in the white hot grip of the dark eco, he was released. He managed to land on two feet, surprised at not the only the ease with which he had recovered but the abrupt ripples of strength and power he felt coursing through his body. He watched as he lifted white hands up for examination and felt his facial muscles tense upward in a demonic smile. _

_Jak felt his thoughts jerk in astonishment. The beast, his dark self, was controlling his body but Jak was, for the first time, baring witness to it. It was an oddly detached sort of sensation, like seeing the world from another person's eyes within a dream. He felt elation sweep over his dark self as it conjured power, a bubbling darkness that chaotically spiraled from his core to his fingertips. He watched as his body suddenly leapt into the air, crackling with the telling surges of huge volumes of eco, before descending into a crouch, slamming a pale fist into the ground. Dark eco radiated out from his body, filling the room with violet electricity, a promise of violent carnage to come, before the room cleared and he felt the spent darkness subside._

_Jak fell back into the weight of his body with a gasp, collapsing to his knees. _

_He heard a gentle pit-pat of furry feet cautiously coming nearer. "That was awesome!" Daxter spoke in a loud voice that belied the worry conveyed in his approach, "Those metal heads are toast! No way can they stand up to the unmitigated fury of your _super dark bomb attack_!"_

_Despite himself, Jak laughed, a low, humorless chuckle. Daxter was silent. _

"_We better hurry and figure out a way into the palace, Dax. I guess I don't have all the time in the world."_

* * *

"Well, chili pepper, just keep at it. Once you eighty-six the rookie status you're bound to get all kinds of ripe and juicy missions." Sig emptied his mug, finishing with a satisfied "aah" sound. 

A horrible stench filled the air just before a huge, round shadow fell over the booth. "Or perhaps it's more a matter of geography, ey?" Jak looked up at Krew and wrinkled his nose, wishing as always that he could somehow look at the blimp with out taking in the whole of his disgusting girth.

Daxter crossed his tiny arms and glared at Krew. "Whaddya mean by 'geography,' donut hole?"

Krews shrewd eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, "What I _mean _is that you only have access to half of the city! The Business District is where the rich little underlings in the Baron's pocket reside. Of course if you spend all your time among the East Side riff-raff you never know what sort of," He gave Daxter a meaningful look, fluttering his fan excitedly, "_accidents_ might occur, ey?" The ottsel's defiant expression quickly melted into one of wide-eyed dread.

Bored with the exchange, Jak impatiently got out of the booth. "Death threats aside, would you just get to the point?"

Krew shifted his attention to the young elf, his eyes glinting, "I have a proposition for you, Jak." The blimp began gliding in a lazy circle around him. "Racing is the biggest sport in the city. Errol is the undisputed grand champion. He's crazy and dangerous on the track. Ha ha! My kind of guy." Krew abruptly stopped circling and moved in close to Jak's face. "Only a _fool_ would dare race against him, ey! And that's where you two come in. A client of mine is looking for a fast driver for her racing team." He floated over to the bar and grabbed a sheaf of papers. He flicked the stack with a snap of his blubbery wrist, sending a shiny object flying in Jak's direction. He deftly caught it and held up a card. "Here's a security pass to get you into the stadium section. Uh, and your contract, with just a few trifles for me. I've, ah, already signed your name to save time, mmmmmmmm."

Krew tossed the papers aside, and Daxter scurried over to pick them up. He began reading:

"We the racers hereby agree to give Krew all proceeds from race earnings, endorsement fees, broadcast royalties, syndications residuals, vehicle sponsorships, mall appearance fees," the long list grew soporific, causing Jak's eyes to flutter, "collectible card assets, fast-food tie-ins, use of likeness rights, talk show deals, clothing lines, all print rights including book, novella, comic, pamphlet, tickertape, neon sign and bathroom graffiti designs," Daxter halted and, taking an enormous breath, turned the page, "toy rights, shoe lines, mood rings, game rights… GAME RIGHTS! …vitamin endorsements, city kickbacks, movie deals, and, of course, all death and dismemberment accident insurance claims."

Jak gave Krew a look that suggested he wondered how the arms dealer's brain managed to work.

Krew chuckled sadistically at the young elf's expression, "Heh heh heh! We can work out the tiny details later. If you can get from here to the race garage near the stadium in three minutes, my client said that she would consider letting you drive for her team. Make me proud, mmmm."

* * *

Errol dismounted his sleek zoomer, noting his reflection in the red paintjob with a conceited smile. Most of the people milling about him stopped, staring in open-mouthed awe. A pair of women gazed at the commander wistfully, and he rewarded them with a winsome salute. He thought how much better it was to make appearances on the West Side. He never failed to garner looks of envy and admiration among the ignorant rich. They all thought they were free citizens at the Baron's generosity after all. 

Errol strode under the familiar arches of the stadium, allowing his gloved fingers to brush the stone in passing. The only things in life he cared about were power, racing, and women. All three were a simple matter of conquest. They weren't always straight forward, but with a little thinking outside the box could be easily won. Force an upright KG commander into enough difficult situations, and he'll leave the Guard and his post up for grabs; tamper with a racer's zoomer before the competition, and he'll be pushed into the pit before the second lap; woo a woman with the right words, and she'll be as loose as a crocadog in heat.

Errol frowned. What to do if the prey will not be subdued?

He stepped over the threshold of _Axle's Garage _with a charming grin yet was met not with Keira's face but her backside as she tilted a water bottle to the ceiling. She drank deeply, completely oblivious to her surroundings, a certain expression of abandon flitting about her closed eyes.

Errol asked, "Thirsty?"

Startled, Keira choked and spluttered, coughing till she was doubled over. Errol immediately closed the distance between them and helpfully took the bottle from her hand, placing it on a nearby table. Returning to her side, he lightly thumped her back.

She straightened up and waved his hand away, eyes watering. "I'm fine—" She coughed again, "Really!"

Errol gave her a wry look. "Yes, I could tell by your purple complexion."

Keira wiped her eyes, shrugging. "Rehydration has its dangers."

"If you're chugging water at the speed of sound." Errol corrected.

She rummaged around in a drawer, her hips swaying pleasantly. She shortly removed a comm. unit and a small tool box, turning to flash him a playful smile. "Hey, it's not my fault I get so thirsty when I work. I just get in creative stints were my mechanical frenzy can't be interrupted by bodily needs"

Errol's loins warmed at the mention of "bodily needs," and Keira strutted past him, subtly flaunting her curves. "In other words you try and get too much done too fast."

"Maybe." She deftly removed three screws from the comm. unit and, popping off the back, tinkered with its insides.

Errol took on a concerned tone. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

She glanced at him again, a flash of green intelligence that he desired to own. "What's got you so insightful today?"

He locked eyes with her, hiding his lustful thoughts with nice guy anxiety. "I'm worried about you."

She looked surprised and then turned, a shy smile softening her features as she inserted a wire into the comm. unit. What was it about the mix of flirtation and innocence that aroused him so much?

Keira, deciding on a new thread of conversation, asked, "What can I do for you today?"

He walked up to her, confidently placing his hand on the table she was standing by. "You can be my mechanic."

She laughed at his persistence. He had said that every time he visited. "Thanks, but no thanks. I like where I'm at."

"Come on." He turned her to face him and placed his hands on her hips, taking another step closer, "My outfit is far better than this shabby old garage. Just think: you'd have the finest equipment and tools, the best racer—"

"Sorry," Keira sashayed out of his grip, somehow making the movement more enticing than any invitation, "but there are some things I need to get finished on my own first."

He stared at her. "You really are in such a hurry." How to unlock such a cryptic puzzle? "You should slow down. You never know when the consequences might choke you."

* * *

it's fun to get inside errol's head a little. he's such a horn dog. so, are you guys excited for the next chapter? it's time for the famous "who's behind the curtain" scene! hopefully, i'll be able to reproduce it with a shade of originality. 

i'd like to thank my faithful reviewers. without you guys, i would have no reason to write. in paticular, i'd like to thank **Ecohorse**!

_thanks so much for always giving such specific feedback! you've reviewed every single chapter, and i love hearing your input. you're a doll! ;)_

...so review, everyone, and get a special mention if you do it really well!


	10. Chance Encounters

i seem to be establishing a routine of updating approximately every two months, largely because i feel no motivation to write till the end of that period of time. i feel kind of bad about it actually, but i rarely have the time to work on this anymore, and that'll only get worse when i head off to college this fall. given how most of this project (and by most i mean a _huge freaking majority_) is still unfinished, i'm wondering if i'll run out of steam. so far, the only things that are keeping me going are reviews and the knowledge of some fantastic and, i'm happy to say, original drama much further down the road. i'm very impatient to get there, but getting myself to write faster just doesn't seem to be happening. we'll see what happens i guess.

...and i've decided metal heads have blue blood.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Chance Encounters**

Jak slammed on the brakes and veered to the left, sending the zoomer into a power slide. The thrusters flared out waves of hot air to slow the vehicle down, leaving scorch marks atop the stairs. With a final screech from the engine, the zoomer stopped and Jak leapt off. He grinned at the vehicle, as a wispy gray smoke resulting from being pushed past the limit issued from the hood. He made it to the stadium in less than three minutes.

No longer speeding through the streets like a madman, Jak looked around and inclined his head in approval. The Business District was clean, attractive, and even exhibited a number of natural features. The people wore fresh clothes and animated faces, quite different from the inhabitants of the slums.

"Not too shabby, eh?" Daxter said, waving a paw at the stadium plaza. Jak nodded as he walked over to a raised garden. "Let me tell you, all the hottest women in the city are right here in the Business District. Something about those jingling credits helps them develop more…generously."

Jak slowly extended his hand toward a pink flower. His calloused fingers brushed a delicate petal. He nearly flinched at the feather-soft feel of it, half-expecting the plant to disappear on contact. Jak had yet to see any flowers bloom among the few fronds at the Pumping Station, and two years without seeing one had practically caused him to forget nature's seeming frivolities exist.

Half-listening to Daxter's description of some alluring shopkeeper in the Business District, Jak turned towards the stadium and passed under one of its arches. He sauntered down the arcade, glaring at anyone who looked at him too close. Not only did he hate having people stare, but he didn't want a possible supporter of the Baron to recognize him and raise the alarm.

Glancing at a nearby wall, he saw a small, relatively insignificant poster nested amongst those of racers and zoomers. With a growl, Jak stalkedover to the poster and promptly tore it off the wall. The Baron's latest wanted poster had given him a first look at his berserker form about a week ago, and, although he tried not to show it, the incident had shaken him. To see a physical manifestation of all his pain, sorrow, and rage—everything he hated about himself—was hugely disturbing. Every single wanted poster he came across was speedily rendered into a pile of shreds.

Jak arrived at Garage 2. The huge doors were wide open, so he didn't hesitate to walk right in. The place was generally a cluttered mess, clearly identifiable as a garage thanks to the tools and parts strewn all about, and a huge sign against the back wall read _Axle's Garage_. The sign was scratched and oddly shiny on a line that sliced right down its middle, as though it had been broken in half and then welded back together. No female race-team managers were in sight.

"Ah, hello?" Jak called out, "Krew said someone was looking for a race driver."

His attention shifted to a green curtain in the right wall as a saucy voice said, "I'm busy right now." Jak reflexively placed a hand on his chest as he felt his heart contract. He frowned down at his hand, wondering what was wrong with him, even as he vaguely realized the voice sounded familiar. He shook the feeling off.

"You must be Krew's new errand boys." Despite the tart label he'd received, Jak failed to flare up when he noticed the lithe silhouette behind the curtain. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, you did get here fast, but I'm not interested in any new drivers right now, and I've got work to do."

Jak, his voice deepening to a more manly pitch, responded, "Is there anything we can do?"

The silhouette went rigid and anxiously stepped in front of a larger shadow. "No! I'm… ah… working on a… ah… secret vehicle project!"

Jak's ego shrunk slightly at the brush-off, causing him to reply with sarcasm. "Okay, _sorry_."

The silhouette paused, considering, before reluctantly throwing him a bone. "Listen, if you think you've got the guts to race in this town, try taking my prototype JET-board out on the stadium course. Beat the stadium challenge, and maybe I'll consider you for my team."

Jak didn't reply but remained glued to the silhouette's curves. He had been expecting a more butch woman to be in charge of a garage and working as a mechanic, not a shapely, petite minx. _But then again, _Jak thought, _I should know better from experience._

It wasn't until Daxter smacked him upside the head that Jak snapped out of his charged trance and grudgingly stepped out of the garage.

* * *

Keira smiled triumphantly. The skeleton of a large vehicle sat on a raised platform before her. Boxes of parts, bolts, and coverings formed a disarrayed maze of metal at her feet, and a growing pile of oil stained rags was building up in a corner. The beginnings of an alien engine sprouted up within the skeleton. 

Unable to contain herself, Keira jumped up and down, giggling and clapping her arms in excitement.

The rift rider was back in business. She would be going home soon.

A monitor in the right wall beeped and flashed. Keira delicately raised an aqua eyebrow. As a manager, she automatically garnered free reign over the stadium in between events, and while she built the JET-board for military purposes she also built it for fun. The stadium course provided a perfect test and recreational ground. She had set up a medal system on the basis of her own score range, and since she was the JET-board's inventor she scored extremely high, even on her initial few test runs. Krew's lackey had managed to get the silver medal on his first try.

Keira sighed as she reached for a blowtorch, knowing he would return in a few minutes. She always hated dealing with Krew's underlings. They were some of the worst scumbags she knew—Sig being the only exception—and it was precisely for this reason that she felt especially irritated with this one. Not only did she find his tenor voice rough, arrogant, and totally sexy, but there was something about his voice that attracted her, pulled her in, a strangely familiar note that quickened her pulse and tugged on the cold strings of her long locked away heart. The feelings greatly unsettled her, and she wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

Thumping footsteps heralded his return, and a brief moment where he made no sound at all followed during which Keira imagined him unevenly distributing his weight and crossing his arms in a cocky pose. He made a matching cocky announcement. "We beat the stadium challenge." Clearly, she was supposed to be impressed.

Keira rolled her eyes, attempting to ignore a curling wave of annoyance, pleasure, and nostalgia. "Great. People do get lucky. Listen, don't you have someone to collect money from or beat up or something?"

"You don't like us do you?" _What's with him and all the 'us's and 'we's?_

"You work for that slime ball Krew. What's not to like?"

He was silent and she briefly wondered if he had left when he observed, "Looks like you've won a few races." Kiera had kept all of Ryker's old trophies and, after removing the dates so no one would suspect, set them up on their old shelves. They had sentimental value, and although it had been Ryker behind the wheel, her mechanical ingenuity had been paramount in getting him to the championships. She figured that made them hers in a small way. "Isn't it true the city champion gets to tour the palace?"

Keira stiffened. "Yeah, why?"

"Could you get me into the palace?"

She scowled. "A friendly visit I gather."

His voice hardened, revealing a dangerous edge. "Yeah, I'm a _real _fan of the Baron." _Apparently not… _Keira hesitated, seeing an out but not sure if she wanted to take it. At the thought of him finally leaving, she made her decision.

"Okay. I'll help you out if you stop bothering me. I saw an old maintenance elevator at the base of one of the palace support towers. That old lift might take you up to the palace _if_ you can find a way to turn on the elevator's power."

Without a word his footsteps started up and receded till only the humming of the light fixtures was audible. Keira breathed a sigh of relief and returned to welding the engine cover.

* * *

Jak descended the Underground stairs, more than a little annoyed with Torn for calling him back to HQ so urgently. His last couple jobs—destroying metal head eggs for Vin and collecting money for Krew—had left him with a feeling of frustrated uselessness. He really was no more important than and errand boy, and he rarely had any opportunities to directly hurt the Baron and his forces. The knowledge of a possible way up to palace was making him as antsy as Daxter locked outside a strip joint. He and the ottsel were sitting down to a nice, relaxing meal at a favorite hole in the wall restaurant in the port when Torn radioed. 

Jak spotted the ex-KG commander in his usual spot behind the map table. Daxter beat Jak to the punch and yelled, "This had better be good, Tattooed Wonder. You called us away from some juicy yakow steaks I can _still _hear calling my name!"

"Now is not the time, rat!" Torn flared up at Daxter with such intense anger Jak was amazed the ottsel didn't burst into a spitting ball of flames. He wondered what could possibly make Torn so furious. "One of my old guard comrades was sent to the pumping station." Jak repressed a grin when he saw Daxter pulling every face imaginable at Torn's back. "There's been no word from her patrol, and after what you guys ran into out there I'm afraid she may need some help."

Jak frowned and asked, "Did you say 'she?'"

Torn rounded on Jak with twice the scorn directed at Daxter, snarling, "Don't even think about it!" He caught sight of Daxter and his bilabial fricatives and roared, "STOP THAT! This is serious, you moron!"

Daxter immediately straightened up and struck a karate pose. "WHA! That's right!" The ottsel spoke to Jak as though he were the one who had been goofing off. "Don't mess with the sugar!"

With another glare at Daxter, Torn continued, "This 'friend' of mine has helped the Underground many times before. Go back to the Pumping Station and take a look around. Render assistance if needed." Jak raised his brow in surprise. Torn offering backup? _What the hell is out there? _He was momentarily distracted from his musings when the ex-KG commander moved in on Daxter and said, his tone dangerously low, "Now get your squirrelly ass outta here!"

Daxter waggled his tongue once more at Torn's back before Jak grabbed him and headed for the stairs.

* * *

Jak leapt on top of a small ledge and casually kicked aside a frogger. "Are you serious?" 

Daxter raised a hand as though he were taking an oath, replying, "I do so solemnly swear on the hides of all the yakows I've ever tipped, lurkers are Haven's very own docile slave force." At Jak's skeptical expression, Daxter continued, "What, you don't believe me? I can take you to a popular auction block in the Industrial District wh—"

"No, it's okay! I believe you, it's just… hard to imagine lurkers serving people. I mean, they don't even talk."

"Oh, yeah they do." His grip on Jak's shoulder tightened as the elf leapt across a gap in the cliff face. "I don't know why or how, an' I sure as hell hate listening to 'em, but they do."

Jak shook his head. "They almost sound civilized the way you're talking."

Daxter shrugged. "You'd be surprised how sorry you wind up feeling for 'em. Brutality towards lurkers is a pretty big problem among the KG and the upper classes."

Up one more ledge, and they were facing a dirt clearing surrounded by abundant ferns and trees. A KG hellcat cruiser hovered nearby. Jak nodded in approval. "Not bad. Kinda like the Forbidden Jungle."

Daxter swatted a bug that had landed on his arm and proceeded to complain, "You mean _exactly_ like the Forbidden Jungle. That place had more insects buzzing around than a week-old snake carcass. Just throw in some booby-trapped Precursor ruins and we're golden." He waved his little hands around his head in a vain effort to dissuade bugs from approaching. "Ehhh, what the heck are doing risking our lives to rescue some old Krimzon Guard hag anyway? She's probably got more facial hair than me!"

Jak gasped in surprise when a pair of light feet landed behind him and a slender arm slipped around his neck in a chokehold too fast for him to react. An alluring scent drifted up to Jak's nose, and ample breasts pressed into his shoulder blades. A smooth, epicurean voice growled, "Who the hell are you two?"

He was beside himself when the telling surge of blood to his face announced a blush.

Daxter, on the other hand, was far from perturbed and began his customary string of pick-up lines. "Mmm, I do love a woman in uniform! Wanna bark some orders at me?" The ottsel raised his paws like a begging crocadog and woofed before jumping onto Jak's chest. "I'm your soldier on the front lines of loooove!" He jumped back down and raised a commanding finger. "Waiter, foxhole for two!"

The woman released Jak. "Keep talking and I'll raise your voice by a couple of octaves."

He staggered back and looked up to see Torn's comrade pointing a pistol at Daxter, "Easy…" He paused as he took in her appearance. The woman wore a navy cropped jacket and low-riding pants, and both clung so tightly to her curvaceous body they almost seemed attached to her skin. Various red accents, such as shoulder pads, belt buckles, a right-arm gauntlet, and an impossibly small halter tube top, along with the characteristic facial tattoos clearly identified her as a member of the Krimzon Guard—and an extremely well built one at that. She was the very definition of an hourglass figure with pleasantly swelling hips, a miniscule waist, and a large bosom. Almost contrary to her perfectly feminine figure, her bare stomach was toned and muscular, as Jak was sure the rest of her body must be. Her sensually fierce appearance was topped off with deep red, dreadlocked hair and feline eyes almost as green as Keira's.

Jak faltered at the thought of the Green Sage's daughter, a guilty splash of shame cooling his heated brain. Doubly outraged that he would feel culpable over a girl whose face he could barely remember, Jak quickly pushed the emotions away and, remembering that he left a sentence hanging, explained, "Torn asked us to help you."

The woman's attention shifted to Jak. She looked momentarily exasperated before her scowl deepened and her eyes narrowed. "I don't need help… but you might. We've got company."

She turned toward the cliff wall they entered by and rushed forward, taking aim with her pistol. A swarm of metal head crabs and goons was dropping onto the dirt with a thud, a fact which didn't seem to bother the KG woman one bit—she had already felled two goons.

Suddenly realizing he was being shown up by a woman, Jak whipped his morph gun out of its shoulder holster and charged into the battle.

The world became nothing more than a blur of metal, blood, and bullets as Jak whirled around, attacking with lethal force. The actions felt natural, like a route that is taken so many times it becomes ingrained in muscle memory. Jak felt a sense of peace and detachment, contradictory to the chaos around him. He noted the butt of his gun plunging up into a crab's chin, crushing metal and bone, causing the jaw to implode up into the skull with a spray of blue blood as though he were a casual observer. He noted with great detail the droplets that landed with a barely audible "plip" on his gloved hands as the crab crumpled to the ground.

A flash of red caught Jak's attention and he looked over to where the woman was currently engrossed in shooting a metal head right between the eyes as she kicked in another's skull. Her booted foot was splashed a sickly blue, the liquid reflecting a quiver of yellow as the goon's skull gem popped out. But even though her lips curled back in an elated snarl, enthralled by the kill, her cat-like eyes were glazed and dull. Jak suddenly understood that she was jaded to the excitement of battle—detached—just like him.

The metal heads were shortly reduced to a pile of carcasses, and the woman turned to her zoomer. In an effort to make her stay, Daxter resumed his lady-killer routine, "Watching me take care of those metal heads was, ah…pretty exciting, wasn't it, sugar?"

She nimbly jumped into the hellcat, ignoring the ottsel, and fired up the ignition. A gust of hot air ripped out of the engines, blowing Daxter's slight frame backwards. He countered by striding forward but merely succeeded in walking in place, as he yelled above the roar, "Hey, sweet stripes, gimme them digits so I can look you up sometime! We'll party hard, big city style!"

The woman turned to Jak as she continued punching the controls and shouted, "Tell Torn Baron Praxis is planning something big. I think it has to do with that symbol." She pointed at a stone shaft that stuck awkwardly out of the dirt. An emblem of two interlocked drops, their heads dotted by a single eye each, was carved on the shaft's top.

Jak looked back at the woman, asking, "What is it?"

"It's the seal of the House of Mar, the founder of Haven City. We're being sent out on suicide missions to locate artifacts from the time of his rule. If curiosity's worth dying for, you can ask the blind old soothsayer in the Bazaar named Onin. She might know something about all this. Here's my Bazaar access security pass."

She tossed Jak not the usual card but a far more advanced electronic device, complete with picture ID. He quickly scanned the information and perked up, looking at the woman. "Your name's Ashelin, huh?" He said it with a sense of triumph, as though learning her name was in some way a victory.

"We're even now." She pulled back on the controls and veered up over the trees before turning back towards the city.

Jak stared after the receding hellcat, remembering what he had seen of the occupant in the heat of battle, as well as what he had seen of her panther-like body. An odd gnawing sensation remained in the pit of his stomach, and Jak wondered what else Ashelin could help him understand.

* * *

Keira lifted aside the tent flap and stepped into a wall of smoke. Taken aback, she coughed a few times and waved a small hand in front of her face in an effort to clear the fumes. 

"Forget it, sister! Absolutely nothing is capable of dissipating such a—RRRAWRK—thick cloud of incense."

Keira dryly stared at an odd mix of a parrot and a monkey, robed in bright blue, red, and yellow feathers. "Yeah, Pecker, thanks. Like I haven't been here enough times to know that." She lifted the hand she had been using as a fan and waggled her fingers. "It's called reflex."

Pecker was just opening his mouth to retort when the old woman he was sitting on clapped her hands together and began gesturing, sending swirls of blue light out around her body. "Onin welcomes you and is wondering if you brought the artifacts."

"Oh, yes," Keira removed her pack and took out a small bundle, placing it before the old woman, "here they are."

Onin smiled, an action Keira frequently questioned how she was capable of doing given the number of wrinkles that sagged around her mouth. Keira continued, "Torn said it was no trouble getting them. The KG is spending so much time locating artifacts these days practically every cruiser has several bags loaded with them."

Suddenly, Onin went very still and, although she was blind, stared directly at Keira. The younger elf found her sightless gaze eerie and was about to say something else to break the silence when Onin nodded and resumed gesturing.

"Onin says your soul has been touched since she last saw you. You have experienced an important encounter."

Keira frowned. _Does she mean Errol? _She looked questioningly at Pecker. The monkey-bird rolled his eyes and shook his head, dismissing the statement as one of Onin's mysterious and, as far as he was concerned, meaningless declarations. Keira glanced back at the old woman and asked, "What do you mean?"

She wasn't really expecting an answer, and indeed when Onin resumed waving and clapping her hands didn't get one. "Onin says the Underground's hotshot new recruit was here a little while ago."

Keira sighed and crossed her arms, suddenly feeling prickly. "Yeah, I've heard of nothing but his amazing feats lately." This incredibly fast, strong, skilled, and purportedly gorgeous recruit was all Tess could talk about lately, and every single time she checked back into the Underground his latest accomplishments were a frequent topic of conversation. Even Torn occasionally mentioned some mission or another he seemed always to be giving to the rookie. Although she no longer worked on regular missions, Keira found his fast ascension in the Underground pecking order threatening. Any mention of him these days tended to put her in a foul mood.

Pecker continued translating, "He has been sent to recover the three artifacts from the Mountain Temple that will activate the Light Tower."

Keira blanched. "_The _Light Tower?"

Onin patiently nodded and Pecker screeched, "Of course '_the _Light Tower!' How many freaking—RRRAWRK—Light Towers do you think there are, sister?"

Keira barely heard the monkey-bird. She was immersed in her own thoughts, feeling the gravity of Onin's statement sink in. Sure, she had been fervently struggling to find a way home for the past two years, but she was also deeply entrenched in the Underground's cause, and the implications of such progress could be huge.

"Onin wants you to report back to Underground Headquarters and tell the Shadow personally."

Keira nodded, understanding that such information was too valuable to risk radio interception over a comm. unit. She muttered a brief farewell and stepped outside the tent. She started walking and then stopped, turning to look up over the stucco buildings and shabby awnings of the Bazaar at the Baron's palace, looming over the city like an oppressive giant.

Keira bit her lip and turned her green gaze to the dusty ground, whispering, "Mar's Tomb is closer than we thought."

* * *

i had to scan about halfway through a substantial game script (which has been a lifesaver, btw) to figure out what the three artifacts did. despite having played the game three or four times, i still don't remember a lot of the specifics. 

i find jak's raging hormones very fun to write about. his attraction to ashelin, which isn't really explored in any of the games (not even jak 3, in my opinion) is endlessly entertaining. even after he meets up with keira again, i'm sure jak'll still have an awkward thing for ashelin. yay for sexually charged angstyness!

review! it is the life blood of this story!


	11. The Confrontation

as of three days ago, i'm a high school graduate. yay! i'm so glad to be done with the public school system! and in less than two weeks, i'll be in japan! double yay! i can't wait to go, and i'm sure i'll get all kinds of inspiration from going there.

in other news, i very seriously considered discontinuing this story. i have so much of it left to go, and i'm betting it'll take me a year or more to finish it. however, it appears the popularity of this story is growing. i've gotten lots of after-the-fact reviews, and they're all so positive i can't help but feel i should try and finish anyway. i know _i _certainly hate it when some author hasn't updated in a year or more and will undoubtedly never finish her or his story. just know i've come really close to giving up on this. thanks for sticking with me for the past year. :)

given my extreme distaste of recounting every single mission and in-game scene, i'm making an effort to skip around as much as possible and not interrupt the flow i've established. hopefully, i'm succeeding. recall that i established earlier on that jak has a dark eco induced semi-amnesia. that's continuing to run its course in this chapter.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**The Confrontation**

Jak took a step back as an enormous gust of wind hit him. Even though the edge was a whole five feet away on either side, an intense wave of vertigo swept over the elf. The air moved in powerful and unpredictable surges towards the setting sun, and that combined with the incredible height of the support cable made Jak feel as a flimsy sheet of paper that the wind might sweep up into a freefall. Only sheer willpower kept him from collapsing to his knees and gripping the metal paneling beneath his feet. Daxter, who clung to Jak's shoulder guard as though he would die if he his orange-dusted knuckles weren't white, clearly shared the sentiment.

"Afraid of heights, Dax?"

The ottsel's eyes remained stubbornly shut. "Who the hell wouldn't be a hundred stories in the air?"

Jak shrugged, a movement which caused Daxter to grip his friend so tightly his tiny muscles quaked from the effort. In a small way, Daxter's discomfort lessened Jak's, and he now felt confident enough to move forward a few steps. No ill occurred, so the elf cautiously walked over to the edge.

The drop down to the city below was the very definition of dizzying. Zoomers navigated the streets like miniscule bugs marching around grains of dirt, and the people were so small Jak could only see them by squinting. He shuffled back to the center of the platform, his arms slightly raised to create the illusion of further balance and safety, and began crossing the support cable to the palace.

Vin, being the inconvenient genius that he was, had been able to reactivate the old B-Zone power grid that supported the access elevator but needed Jak to switch on the five, motion-sensing, turbo cannon guarded power boxes. Although the job wasn't difficult, it was just another obstacle between him and the Baron. Jak growled in frustration as he realized he would encounter more obstacles all along the support cable.

Heat tiles that could electrocute him to an airborne crisp riddled the path, followed by turrets, rotating spike rings, moving electrical rods, collapsible tiles, and still more turrets. Crossing the support cable meant engaging in a high wind dance that was deadly as it was tiring. By the time Jak reached the palace, a partially dried cold sweat drenched his skin and his legs quivered like jelly from height-induced nerves.

Jak looked at the ball of fur curled around his left shoulder and raised an unsympathetic eyebrow. "Hey, Dax, you can let go now."

"Are we on the ground?"

"No, we're on top of the palace." The ottsel didn't budge. "Look, you can't even complain. You're not the one who had to cross that thing." Jak waved a hand back at the support cable even though Daxter wasn't listening.

At last cracking an eyeball, Daxter gave his companion a one-eyed glare, mumbling, "Believe me, big guy, that makes it that much scarier."

Grinning devilishly, Jak plucked Daxter off his shoulder, the latter of whom quickly twisted around in the big hand and gripped it for dear life, yelling obscenities and insults that were lost in the howling wind. Jak said, "You just don't trust me, Dax. Haven't I proved time and time again that there's no safer place to be than on my shoulder?"

"THEN PUT ME BACK ON THERE, ASSHOLE!"

"What's the point if you don't trust me?" Jak replied, smiling.

A short scuffle later, in which Daxter vowed his trust in Jak a thousand times over, muffled voices sounded from below. Spotting a skylight, the companions headed over and lay down on their bellies, peering over the edge.

A huge, ostentatious throne room yawned beneath them. The Baron and Errol, both seeming more tense than Jak had ever seen them, stood in front of a holographic projection.

Praxis said, his voice gruff with impatience, "I've told you, I'll have more eco by week's end. We'll transport it directly to your nest as promised."

The projection, difficult to see but clearly a head, swayed slightly as though shaking from side to side. It reproached in an unearthly voice that struck fear into Jak's heart. "A deal is of no value if you can't deliver, my dear Baron." Jak frowned, realizing the terrible voice sounded familiar. "I grow impatient of your puny gestures. Give me the agreed upon eco soon, or the deal is off, and your precious city will pay the price!"

_Is _that _why he's giving metal heads eco? To ransom the city? _No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the projection flickered and disappeared.

Errol stomped the floor and growled in frustration. "He's toying with us! Let me lead an assault on the nest before it's too late. I can take him."

The Baron swung towards the commander, yelling, "No! No one has every penetrated the metal head nest. You know that. I've seen what comes of such foolish plans. No! Strength is their weakness. We play helpless… we train them to eat from our hands, and then…" He turned decisively towards Errol, "Move forward with the plan! Tell Ashelin to up her patrols. I want that tomb found!"

Errol looked at the shiny tiles beneath his boots, concealing his expression. "But your daughter has not been… agreeable."

Jak's eyes widened. _What?_

"Ahgg… I'll see to that." The Baron's voice took on a chilling new dimension. "One way or another…"

Jak turned to Daxter. "Ashelin is the Baron's daughter?"

Praxis flared up again. "And find that child! If you spent half as much time looking for that little brat as you spend flirting with that mechanic girl, we would have pinned his royal ass to a wall long ago!"

Jak gasped in dread as he saw Daxter's little head nod backwards, going further each time, preparing for a mighty sneeze.

Errol bowed his head slightly, and Daxter settled back down, rubbing his black nose. "As you wish. With enough persuasion I'm sure our spy will—" Suddenly, the sneeze erupted with violent force, making a dangerous amount of noise and leaving a snotty blotch on the window pane, "What was that?"

Jak promptly grabbed the ottsel by the muzzle and rolled out of sight, hoping he had done so fast enough to avoid detection. He glared down at Daxter, growling, "Well done, buddy." Daxter shrugged sheepishly and would have said something if it weren't for Jak's hand covering his mouth.

After waiting for the men to leave the throne room and both of them grumbling, the two companions stood up and began walking back towards the support pillar when a mechanical woosh sounded below. Suddenly, a gigantic flying mech flew up past the ledge and loomed over them. Odd thruster-capped tentacles hung down from the robotic suit, and vicious guns and weaponry sprouted from its small body like needles from a pin cushion. In the middle of the mech, a rounded glass covering revealed the Baron sitting in the cockpit.

Rage instantly gripped Jak in a vice of hatred, and he scowled defiantly at the Baron. Praxis' half metal face twisted in a malicious grin, and he yelled above the roar of his mech, "So, we have a rat in the walls, do we? A rat and his boy it seems!"

"Hey!" Daxter yelled, insulted, "I'll have you know I'm the hottest 'rat' about town!"

The Baron guffawed, enjoying the situation. "Back for a few more dark eco treatments?"

Jak replied, his voice thick with fury, "Only if you're the one strapped to the table."

The Baron shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Such anger! It's really quite unhealthy, you know."

Jak's eyes darkened. "I'm sure I can douse it out with your blood."

Praxis laughed again. "Well, allow me to save you the trouble and put you _both_ out of your misery!" He opened fire, barely allowing Jak time to dodge.

A deadly rigmarole of flaming bullets ensued. Jak rolled, jumped, and ducked, only occasionally having time to get a shot in. The mech had a force field that dimly quivered with green light whenever it took a hit, and Jak devoted a great deal of energy to wearing it down before he could even start doing real damage. Little black streaks covered his clothes where eco bullets passed so close they singed the fabric, and rivers of sweat were running down his toned body. Oddly enough, Jak didn't feel the tiring of his body. He only felt his desire for revenge burning in his stomach like a black flame.

With a yell, Jak twisted out of harm's way and got in a clean shot. A little explosion burst in one of the mech's tentacles, causing it to flounder in the air and shoot sparks. Praxis cursed and, wrestling with the controls, just managed to crash through a gate and escape to a different area of the roof.

Confident that he had done some damage, Jak stocked up on some ammo from various KG crates and ran after the Baron. But no sooner than he reached the next area, the mech appeared before him with a fully recharged shield.

The Baron called out, laughing maniacally, "How about some heat-seeking action?" He punched a button in the cockpit and a barrage of missiles rocketed directly up out of the mech and arched down right to where Jak was standing.

Again Jak was forced to hit and run for what seemed like an eternity, and again he remained tireless, subsisting on his rage. Again the Baron crashed through a gate and led the way to another area of the roof, stealing just enough time to recharge his force field, and again he employed use of a new and deadlier weapon.

The now smoking mech spewed swirling twisters of flame, further singing Jak's clothes and even catching Daxter's tail on fire. Pursued by the fiery tornados, Jak had hardly a moment to spare for inflicting damage, and it took him forever to wear down the force field. By the time he succeeded, his ammo was dangerously low.

Praxis, after letting loose another fire storm, laughed louder than ever and triumphantly charged Jak, planning to run over the exhausted elf like he would a bug. Seeing a narrow window of opportunity, Jak lifted his gun and leapt sideways. At just the right moment, he pulled the trigger and hit a vital spot, causing the mech to twist and turn so violently it spiraled out of control and, hitting another gate, exploded.

Jak stared at the smoking remains of the gate, mouth open. Had he really done it? _Is he dead?_

Daxter apparently thought so and whooped loudly. "Yeah! In your half-metal face, you megalomaniac!"

But the ominous sound of a discharging engine sounded, and the Baron floated into sight in what had been the mech's cockpit, now weaponless and seething. "The dark powers I gave you can't protect you forever! Since I made you I can destroy you! We'll meet again soon." His vow made, Praxis pulled out and flew away.

Daxter yelled after him, "Yeah, whatever. Bye-bye!" He waved an orange paw, a taunting grin on his face.

Jak fought off the urge to collapse on the spot. Now that the battle was over, his exhaustion had completely caught up with him, and his legs trembled with the simple effort of standing. He realized that if it weren't for his so called "dark powers," which provided him with not only the ability to use dark eco but also incredible strength and endurance, he would never have survived the confrontation. He propped his gun against the roof and fell, panting, to one knee, his head and ears hanging like a wilted plant.

"Woah!" Daxter exclaimed, "That really wore you out."

Jak nodded. "Battles to the death have a way of doing that, Dax."

"Well step it up, big guy. I'm ready to get back down on the ground."

Jak gave his companion a one-eyed glare. "You wanna fight with a mech suit equipped with an entire arsenal of weapons more destructive than any morph gun?"

"No, but I'm betting you wouldn't mind stocking up on some plump yakow steaks after exercise like that."

Jak smiled, a shadow of a chuckle escaping lips, and shook his head. After another minute he stood back up and took in a deep breath. "All right, let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

Jak leaned against the window sill and crossed his arms, staring broodingly as he sighed. _What a day…_ It had been two, really. He didn't return from the palace till the middle of the night, and Torn was waiting for him. The ex-KG commander chewed Jak out without hesitation, even with Kor standing in the room He would not be placated by Jak's success or the information he brought back about the metal head leader, and he refused to answer Jak's questions about Ashelin with furious fortitude. In the end, Jak was rewarded with the dangerous mission of transporting Underground members to new safe houses. Despite having completed the mission with perfect execution, he was given no respite but the task of protecting some sacred site in Dead Town. Jak then received the biggest shock to his system since the dark eco treatments.

The "sacred site" was in fact the charred, decaying remains of Samos' hut. Dead Town was the future of Sandover Village. His village. In some small part of his heart, a part even he wasn't aware of, Jak hoped that he would find his way back to the life he had. But seeing the crumbling abode of the Sage of Green Eco utterly shattered any belief that Jak would ever make it back home.

His home was gone.

Daxter snorted, and Jak looked over to where he lay curled up in an open drawer. The ottsel shifted slightly and then was still. Somehow, despite two years of living in the streets of Haven, Daxter remained unaware that he was living in the future. Thanks to his extreme distaste of reading and remarkably ability to remain selectively unperceptive, Daxter never saw a date in print or heard one orally. He was, he said, so focused on finding Jak that he never really seemed to notice much other than clues to the elf's whereabouts and the more beautiful women he came across. But then, Daxter never did notice very much unless he wanted to.

The ottsel rolled over again in his drawer, and Jak couldn't help but smile. It helped to know that Daxter was suffering the same disillusionment that he was—not that such a surprise kept the ottsel from enjoying his shirt padded bed. Daxter's eagerness to embrace sleeping back indoors, which seemed to radiate from his sprawled form and comfortably closed eyes, also brought a smile to Jak's face. After a little over a month since escaping prison, the elf was just beginning to readjust to resting between four walls, and Daxter couldn't be more glad.

Jak's gaze turned back out the window, and he looked up at the stars as though they could give him an answer. Upon returning from Dead Town, Jak and Daxter were finally introduced to the Shadow. But rather than easing his mind or clarifying his current problems, Jak became more discombobulated than ever. The Shadow was none other than Samos himself… only he wasn't Samos. This Samos, although green, was not a sage, had no recollection of any rift gates, possessed a full afro hair, and was certainly not old and crusty. Indeed, the only thing about the Shadow that genuinely resembled the old sage was his distaste of Daxter's face and teleporting.

The Shadow didn't hesitate to send Jak and Daxter out to Haven Forest to root out an infestation of metal head scouts. The only thing the pair got out of the mission was the JET-board and a solid forty-eight hours of sleep deprivation. Unfortunately, Jak's thoughts were so chaotic he was utterly incapable of lying down in bed. And so he restlessly sat at the window, mulling things over till his eyelids finally grew heavy.

Oddly enough, before Jak saw the Shadow he could hardly recall Samos' distinct appearance, but as soon as he saw the little man he felt a gray area in his mind flood with color. The sensation was like that of remembering a fragment of a dream, triggered by some action or sight. Jak raised his hand and stared at it. Although the dark eco robbed him of everything he held dear, it hadn't permanently blurred his memories into an ambiguous haze. Whenever he saw someone or something from his past, another piece fell into place. But that didn't ever seem to do anything to lighten the darkness of his heart.

Jak yawned and finally headed towards his cot. He collapsed and closed his eyes, their tired burn soothed by the darkness. He now knew of Daxter and Samos—sort of—and of the fate of Sandover. How much longer before he would find all the pieces? A clouded image of Keira, hip popped out and wrench in hand, floated through his mind. She was grinning, one eyebrow raised, as she explained her latest invention, the A-grav zoomer. He slipped into a deep sleep, not even knowing he whispered her name.

* * *

"I want you boys to escort the kid over to Kor at the Power Station."

Jak looked at Samos, unimpressed, and then down at the indicated child. He wore cuffed blue overalls and a remarkably timid expression. His grimy feet were bare, and wispy tufts of unruly green hair escaped from beneath a pilot cap. Jak remembered seeing him with Kor shortly after breaking out of prison. Daxter said, "This kid again? We've got better things to do than baby-sit!" Jak couldn't help but agree, although he kept silent.

Samos glared at Daxter and replied, "You'll do what I tell you when I tell you!"

"Or what?"

"Or you can kiss goodbye any chances at the Baron and spend the rest of your days scrubbing the Underground latrines!"

Jak viewed the exchange with a combination of amusement and disquiet. While this Samos wasn't the one of the past, he surely acted like him. Everything from his temper to his threats of toil and drudgery spent with a mop fit the bill for the Sage of Green Eco.

Having composed himself, the Shadow continued, "Kor promised to look out for the boy, and I'm just too busy to baby-sit right now." Daxter grumbled at the word "baby-sit," and the kid's companion started yapping. Samos sighed, as though reminded of an annoying itch, "Oh, and take the kid's crocadog with you." The animal in question growled at the old man, who nervously chuckled. "…Isn't he sweet?"

Jak, still unimpressed, asked, "So, what's this kid's story?"

"I found him just wandering the streets. But that amulet around his neck means he may just be the lost heir to the city." Jak recognized the red amulet as the seal of the House of Mar Ashelin told him about. At the thought of the KG woman, Jak felt his body unwittingly stir. He immediately quelled any desire for her, attempting to focus on the mission at hand.

"Take the kid and the mutt to the Power Station. Watch out for guard patrols and defend the kid at all costs. Oh, and if you happen to lose the crocadog—" The animal again growled at the Shadow, and he took a step back before waving the boys away.

Removing his blaster from its holster, Jak led the boy down the alley and out into the open streets of the South Slums. The kid followed at a slow waddle, and the pace made Jak nervous. However, he figured they stood a better chance of avoiding detection if they discreetly made their way among the many pedestrians rather than tearing around in a zoomer. They hadn't even reached the first bridge when Jak was proved wrong.

A couple krimzon guards were heading towards them, guns raised, one of them radioing for backup. Jak cursed and quickly shot down the soldiers as he simultaneously scanned the area. Already, more KG were approaching, but he couldn't leave the kid's side long enough to jump up and steal a zoomer. He cursed again and began leading the boy to the Power Station on foot, struggling to protect from all sides. Suddenly, Jak noticed a parked zoomer on the other side of the plaza and was flooded with relief. _No way can I keep this pace up all the way to the Power Station._

But he thought for too long, and when he turned to check up on his charge he saw the kid, wide-eyed and frightened, raising his little arms as a gun pointed at his heart. Jak lunged forward, shooting like a madman, barely stopping the unfortunate guard from apprehending the boy. "He's just a kid!"

The guard removed his faceplate and spluttered blood, barely capable of saying, "I don't give a damn if he is, you piece of rebel shit." Jak shot the guard in the face.

Without a moment's more hesitation, Jak wrapped one arm around the boy's middle and, lifting him up, bolted for the zoomer, shooting down guards the whole way. He leaped into the zoomer and threw the kid into the passenger seat, he dimly noted too roughly, and gruffly yelled, "Stay down!" He barely waited long enough for the crocadog to jump in before punching the ignition flying down the narrow windy streets of the Slums.

Smoke sputtered abundantly from the engine by the time they pulled up at the Power Station, and the boy was so terrified he wouldn't move but stayed stubbornly rolled up in a quivering ball. Jak unexpectedly felt his chest tighten, and an overwhelming sympathy for the child wrapped around his heart. He suddenly felt guilty for being so callous and, first scanning for any more krimzon guards, placed a big hand on the child's leather capped head. The boy looked up, wet tear trails streaming down his pudgy face. He looked utterly helpless. Jak attempted to smile and said, "Don't worry, kid, you're safe now."

Daxter chimed in, "Yeah, Kor'll take care of you."

The boy looked from the older elf to the ottsel vacillating between fear and hope before deciding on the latter emotion. He held his little arms out towards Jak as though he wanted to be picked up. Jak looked at the boy uncomfortably but quickly picked him up when he heard the clacking footfalls of an entire squadron bellow, the leader shouting out orders.

Once inside the power station, Jak paused, still holding his charge. The kid's head rested comfortably against his shoulder. One hand gripped Jak's collar and the other one of Daxter's paws. His small weight against Jak's body radiated trust, and the older elf felt extremely awkward. He pried the boy's hands loose and set him on the floor as Daxter jumped off his perch and strutted down the catwalk towards Kor.

Daxter said, "Samos told us to bring the kid to you."

Kor gravely nodded his acknowledgment, replying, "Thank you. I'll be sure to keep him close." He leaned down and stretched an open hand to the boy. The boy waddled over, but not before his crocadog resumed his favorite pastime and growled at the old man. Kor straightened up. "…How sweet."

Jak kneeled next to the crocadog and lifted up a hand for him to sniff. The animal immediately stopped growling and allowed Jak to stroke his large head, his tongue lolling out in pleasure. Kor looked on, impressed, and said, "Interesting. That insufferable mutt never liked anyone but the boy before."

Jak glanced up at Kor, smiling. "I guess I'm just good with animals."

Kor gazed around the Power Station, his eyes settling on a screen with fluctuating bars of light. "I hope we have enough eco to keep the metal heads at bay. During my travels in the deep Wasteland I saw some of the bigger ones. Awesome creatures."

Daxter piped up, "We saw a big one coming out of a rift once. He was uuuuugly!"

Kor harrumphed, seemingly displeased with the ottsel's lack of appreciation, before saying, "I have some valuable information for you. The Baron is conducting an excavation at the Dig. He is still looking for that ridiculous tomb." The crocadog wandered over to the old man's feet and raised a short leg to urinate on his walking stick. "Frankly, I don't believe it exists, but you might as well go out there and disrupt his operation just in case." Kor grimaced at the yellow puddle on the floor and delicately shook his stick dry. "Knock down all the scaffolding at the site. That should set him back."

Jak perked up at the idea of hurting the Baron's plans. "How do we get to the Dig?"

Kor handed him a shiny card. "Go to the port. Here is an air train pass to get you out there."

Jak grinned, looking forward to the task at hand. He turned to run out as Daxter leapt onto his shoulder, calling out his thanks.

* * *

Keira asked, a smile in her voice, "Are you serious? You're finally going to give me something fun to do?"

A gravelly voice rattled out of the comm. unit, "Unfortunately. You better not get too carried away."

Keira gave a little leap for joy and replied, trying to keep from sounding too satisfied, "That all depends on the mission, Torn. What are the details?"

"I'll brief when you get to HQ."

She stuck out her lips in a pout. "You mean I don't get to even prepare till the last minute? What will I do with myself?"

Torn said dryly, "I'm sure you'll think of something. Have you made any progress with golden boy?"

Keira sighed. "Sadly no. He's really only interested in adding me to his list of trophies. He's a tough nut to crack. My only new information is about plans to eliminate a couple more safe houses in the Water Slums. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Well, have you tried sleeping with him?"

Keira flushed, indignant that she would be asked such a question even if it was a part of her job. "No. Errol's the type to abandon a woman after he's had his way with her."

"You sure about that?"

Keira said, raising her voice, "Yes I'm sure! The only way for me to get him to say anything of use is to keep dangling the carrot."

Torn was silent just long enough for Keira to know she had put him back in his place. Given the nature of their relationship, one of deep respect and friendship, it wasn't often that the Underground tactician crossed the line, but he always felt bad when he did. Keira, deciding to let him off the hook, said, "All right, so I'll be in at midnight. I'm looking forward to getting in some trigger practice."

"Fine. Over and—wait. I should tell you. This isn't a solo mission."

Keira raised an eyebrow at the comm. unit. "What?"

"It's high risk enough that you'll be teaming up with the new recruit."

"…Are you kidding me?"

"No." His warning tone suggested that Keira should keep her mouth shut. "I'll see you at—"

"But I'm one of the top members of the Underground! You expect me t—"

"No arguments! I shouldn't even be giving you a regular mission, but the Shadow's decided to throw you a bone, so shut up and take it. I'll see you at midnight. Over and out."

The comm. unit clicked off. Keira resisted the urge to throw it across the room and instead settled for kicking a nearby crate.

Torn would dare to ask her, a seasoned Underground soldier and mechanic, to work with a rookie? If anything, he would be a liability. She didn't care if all she heard about the new recruit was how fast he could run or how well he could shoot.

Keira stomped out to the stadium and swung her leg up over an available zoomer. Did this mean that Torn was replacing her? She hit a button and was lowered to the track below. She was barely free of the platform before she accelerated, hitting a boost so quickly the engine protested being pushed so hard with a high-pitched squeal. She didn't care if she damaged the zoomer, she could certainly fix it, and the speed helped ease her wounded ego.

Surely, Torn really did mean what he said about how dangerous the mission was. There was no way he would derail Keira's status. She was still among the best of the best, and just because some rookie happened to be a good shot it didn't mean she her reputation would be overshadowed.

At least she hoped.

_Threatening… definitely threatening,_ Keira thought as she boosted over a dip in the track.

* * *

omg, i'm finally, _finally _going to get to the reunion! it's entirely possible that i'll get the next chapter up quickly since i've been looking forward to writing it for so long. obviously, i'm not sticking with the game reunion scenario, but no worries. it'll still be cool, i promise. :) 

review!


	12. Happy Reunion

finally got around to plugging this one out in the last few days. this is by far the longest chapter i've written, and it took me _forever _to come up with a j/k mission i liked. in the end, i wound up slightly modifying the "hunt haven forest metal heads" mission that jak gets from sig.

i'm endlessly entertained by the fact that i mention rambo in this chapter. gotta love random, totally incongruous things like that.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Happy Reunion**

"Why on earth would you partner me up with some Underground old-timer who couldn't keep up with me if he tried?" Jak asked Torn, disgusted. Life had tossed nothing his way other than confusion lately. He assisted an ungrateful yet maddeningly alluring Ashelin with a metal head sneak attack; he retrieved a ruby key from a statue of Mar in the sewers that reminded him of something he couldn't quite put his finger on; he actually _helped_ lurker slaves escape lives of toil and drudgery. The last thing he needed was a baby-sitter to muck things up.

The ex-KG commander shot the younger elf an icy blue glare. "This 'old-timer' happens to one of our most skilled members. If anything, you'll have trouble keeping up with her."

Jak grimaced. "'_Her?_' Are you kidding me?!"

Torn looked back down at his maps, disinterested. "She asked me the same question." Jak couldn't tell Torn was concealing an amused grin.

Daxter nimbly hopped onto the table, and offered, "You never know, big guy, she might be a total killer like that Ashelin babe." The ottsel ducked, narrowly avoiding Torn's swinging fist.

Jak began pacing. "I don't give a fuck what she looks like. It's insulting for me to get chaperoned by some 'veteran'—much less some chick who can't run as fast or shoot as well!"

Torn said in a low, dangerous tone, "I think you're overestimating your abilities."

Jak rounded on the taller elf, fearless because of his anger, "Am I? I've done everything you've asked me to do with the utmost skill, I've successfully led a one-man army assault on the palace, and I've only ever been seriously wounded once! How many more of your recruits can you say that about, huh?"

By the time Jak finished ranting, he was face to face with Torn. The ex-KG commander leaned forward, causing Jak to take a step back, and growled, "Not many, but they all earned their strength through blood, sweat, and tears. The only reason you can even remotely compare to our best is because you're some dark eco freak, a creation of the Baron."

Jak yelled back, "If you think that's the only reason I'm any good, you need to pull your head out of your ass! I used to be one of the most advanced eco channelers anywhere."

"That's right!" Daxter chimed in, "He saved the world once!"

Jak continued, "If it weren't for how strong I already was, I never would have even survived the dark eco treatments to begin with. So you can shove your 'you didn't work for it' routine!"

Torn looked from Jak to Daxter, searching for a one-dimensional show of bravado. Incredibly, the light of conviction in their eyes showed that they were telling the truth. _Well, _he thought, _that _would_ explain why Jak's as good as he is. _Although he was reluctant to admit it and he hated how cocky the younger elf was, Jak was, in fact, one of the most skilled fighters Torn had ever seen.

"No matter how or why you have the abilities you do, that doesn't mean you're invincible. You're acting like a spoiled brat who won't share toys in the sandbox. But like it or not you _will _be working on a team tonight." As he spoke, Torn placed his palms on the map table and hunched his shoulders slightly. He knew the flickering light from the ceiling lamp would cast dark shadows under his brows and cheekbones, an effect that never failed to intimidate, or at least silence, a lower ranking member.

Jak scowled defiantly back at Torn but kept his mouth shut.

"So," Daxter drawled, "what's the rundown?"

Torn straightened back up and crossed his long arms. "You'll be briefed as soon as your partner arrives, which should be any mi—"

As if on cue, the double doors whirred as they slid up and footsteps padded down the stairs.

"All right, Torn, this had better be good."

At first, Jak didn't even recognize her. She wore different clothes, had a more womanly body, and carried herself completely differently. As soon as he realized who she was, he froze.

Daxter yelled, astonished, "_Keira?_"

The aqua-haired beauty in question looked at the ottsel, startled. Her confusion faded into recognition. "Daxter?" Her lips curved into a radiant smile. "It _is _you!"

She crossed the room in a few bounding steps and picked Daxter up, hugging him fiercely. "I never thought I'd be so glad to see your furry mug!"

Torn looked on, a repugnant expression on his face. "You're _familiar _with this rat?"

Keira wasn't listening but, after putting Daxter down, turned towards the other elf in the room. "And Jak—" As soon as she caught sight of him, all the joy at finally finding her friends disappeared. The abrupt change in her face caused Jak to cover up his own astonishment and look as stoic and unapproachable as possible. Keira continued in an effort to cover up her mistake, "You look," _angry, hard, dangerous, _"…different."

He looked down at the map table, determined to avoid her eyes. "It's been a tough ride."

Keira said in a quiet, shaken voice, like someone having a surreal dream, "You can talk."

Torn looked from girl to boy to rat and back to girl. No one else seemed surprised by the statement. "Of course he can talk!" He asked, incredulous, "How the _hell_ do you know these two punks?"

Daxter answered, "We grew up together."

Torn continued staring at Keira. "You grew up with a rat?"

Daxter puffed out his chest, incensed. "You know what? I've just about had it with this 'rat' business. You better put your dukes up, Tattooed Wonder, 'cause it's time for Orange Lightning to kick your—"

Keira cut off Daxter with such simplicity Torn could tell she was seasoned to such outbursts. "He wasn't always an ottsel. He was a person just like you and me until he fell into a pool of dark eco about two years ago."

Daxter slicked back his ears, coolly saying, "And what a hunk I was." Both Jak and Keira rolled their eyes and, seeing the other was doing the same thing, discontinued sharing the moment by examining various posters along the back wall.

Torn raised his hairless brows. Daxter, seemingly oblivious to the tension, said, "To repeat my earlier question, what's the rundown?"

Putting aside his curiosity about the trio in front of him, Torn responded, "Tess got wind of some disturbing information yesterday: Sig encountered some metal heads in Haven Forest on a trophy hunt."

Daxter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, so?"

"So they're not your average metal heads," Torn growled at the ottsel, "and they have a special camouflage that cloaks and renders the wearer invisible. We've never encountered anything like it before. The Shadow's taken to calling them _stealths_."

"How original!" Daxter interrupted again and was rewarded with a scowl that could freeze a metal head in its tracks.

"Unfortunately, the Metal Head Leader's patience is running thin. Not only does he have more skilled soldiers at his disposal, but an entire legion of them. An unprecedented number of metal heads are gathering in Haven Forest, all of them stealths. We don't know when they'll move, but we better take action before history repeats itself and the city gets another Dead Town."

Keira impatiently cut in, "So by 'we' you mean us?"

Torn flashed her a curt glare and continued, "To put it simply, yes. You two are the best marksmen we have."

"What about Gabe or Tess—Rage?"

"Gabe had an unarmed scuffle with some guards and he's in critical condition, Tess is onto more dirt at the _Hip Hop_, and Rage is covering for Jinx."

"_Jinx?_" At the disgusted expression on Keira's face, Jak wondered what sort of a person this "Jinx" was.

"Yes, Jinx. The KG have discovered the location of another safe house, but we'll be ready for it. Jinx volunteered to blow a few holes in their forces. He's wiring a number of explosives on likely routes the KG will take, but we're all out remotes. He'll have to detonate them manually, and once he does all hell will break loose. He'll need a wingman if he runs into any trouble."

Keira wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, trouble's always on Jinx like stink on a metal head's ass." Her crass statement was enough to finally get Jak to look at her, staring with thinly veiled disbelief. She met his blue eyes with a level glance. _Yes, _she thought, _I swear and curse just as much as any churl in the streets. _She turned back to Torn, not interested in dealing with Jak's apparent surprise that she too may have changed over the past two years.

Torn pretended not to notice the unspoken exchange and said, "Given the situation, we can't afford to wage an all out war with the Metal Head Leader. Not yet. We have to respond to this threat with minimal action and resources, only putting our best agents in the field, which at the moment is just you two. You're both fast and are fully capable of taking down your fair share of nasties. Go to the forest and take them all out." The ex-KG Commander finished, crossing his arms over his slim but well-muscled chest.

A mingled expression of grandiosity and dread graced Daxter's orange countenance. Keira made a show of appearing alert and excited in an effort to cover up her obvious discomfort. Jak remained emotionless and glazed. Torn's eyes narrowed at the blonde elf. Despite past precedent of arrogant interjections and editorials, he never said a word throughout the briefing. Was he even paying attention?

"You got that, Jak?" A slightly venomous inflection spat out at the younger elf's name, causing him to focus in on Torn with fresh anger.

"Go to Haven Forest, take out all the metal heads, stop a possible invasion of the city." He recited, his fists tightening at his sides till his knuckles were as white as the peaks of Snowy Mountain.

Torn nodded, his lip curling in a sardonic smile despite himself. "Good. Dismissed."

* * *

Keira couldn't help stealing a sideways glance at Jak as they walked over to a zoomer parked outside the Underground entrance. He was a little taller, his shoulders had broadened, and his muscles were considerably thicker. His once sprightly, gravity-defying hair now fell to the nape of his red-scarfed neck, and a small triangular tuft of green grew out beneath his shapely lips. Tess wasn't kidding when she said how gorgeous the new recruit was. Warmth radiated out from deep in Keira's body, her legs slightly weak, and her hungry gaze longed to drink in the elf's appearance further. 

But on another level she didn't want to look.

His build and clothes weren't the only things that changed. Jak strode not with careless ease but honed control, hinting at incredible skill and power as well as suffering. His mouth set in a firm line, and his brow bent in a constant scowl. His deep blue eyes, once warm and engaging, were now cold and guarded. Where the old Jak was happy, this Jak was angry. Where the old Jak was bright, this Jak was dark. He looked wild and dangerous. Keira could see no trace of the boy from Sandover Village.

…_What on earth happened to you?_

Jak saw her glance out of peripheral vision and stared firmly ahead, struggling to remain impassive.

Keira, already beautiful, had blossomed from a girl into a woman. Her curves were even more enticing than he remembered. She was poised and intimidating, rather than bubbly and sweet—actually, having crushed on her nearly as long his memory went, he had always found her intimidating on some level. But now she was transformed. Keira, although spunky, was always a damsel in Jak's eyes. But she had hung up her old clothes and smiles and donned darker apparel and expressions, more suited to her new persona. Clearly the past two years groomed her into a hardened member of the Underground, fully capable of taking care of herself. He could see it in the way she walked, talked, and gestured, and the fact caused an angry spark to flare up in a far corner of his mind. How could she change? Why couldn't he protect her like the old Jak?

Thoughts of who he used to be swept over his mind in a furious wave. The way she first looked at him in HQ—the surprise. Her emerald eyes, alarmed for only a split second, cut him to the soul, accusing him, a screaming reminder that his innocence—his humanity—was lost forever. And it made Jak hate himself and the Baron all the more.

He climbed into the driver seat and, when she wasn't looking, watched Keira get in on the passenger side. In one fluid motion, she was seated, leaning back into the zoomer and crossing her legs with panther grace. She truly had grown more stunning, and his body didn't fail to notice.

Jak grew even more outraged that she rendered him utterly incapable of controlling his physical reactions, setting his primal urges aflame with a mere turn of her fingers. Jak sought to push away the confused jumble of his emotions by telling himself he didn't care and assuming the greatest amount of insouciance possible. He had a mission to attend to, and revenge in his heart. _What difference does it make if she's here? _He hoped he could successfully fool himself.

Daxter surveyed the pair, unimpressed by their lukewarm reception of one another. Both of them were obviously determined to ignore the other, but that only made the air crackle with greater intensity. Keira had changed, no doubt about that, but she was initially happy to see them. Why did Jak have to go and ruin it with his tall, dark, and gruesome routine? The tension was so thick the ottsel could cut it with a knife.

Seeing there was no chance anyone else would break the ice, Daxter said, "So, Keira, ya happy to see me?"

She grinned over her shoulder at him. "Didn't I already tell you?"

" I guess I'm more used to you brushing me off like in the old days." Daxter gulped. As soon as he said "old days" Keira's smile faded and Jak's jaw set a little firmer. He quickly asked, "How long've you been in the Underground?"

Keira's gaze turned to the front, absent. "A year-and-a-half." She smirked. "I practically had to get on my hands and knees and beg to get Torn to give me a chance."

"Yeah, so did we. But now you're a top recruit!"

She grinned at Daxter again, replying, "So are you it would seem."

"You're the mechanic from the stadium, aren't you?" Daxter jumped slightly at the sound of his companion's voice. Jak hadn't said anything since Keira showed up.

She looked at him sharply. "How did you know that?"

Daxter, suddenly realizing why the mechanic seemed so familiar, answered, "We're the new candidates for your race team."

Keira raised an aqua eyebrow, still staring at Jak. "Krew's guy?" He didn't nod, but it hardly mattered. Her eyes returned to the street ahead. "Now I understand all those 'us's and 'we's."

"Yeah, that would get kinda confusing." Daxter scratched his head, a thought occurring to him. "Why'd you join the Underground in the first place."

Keira hesitated before replying, "It's personal."

"Of course it is," again, Jak's voice startled his smaller companion, "everyone joins because 'it's personal.'"

Keira glared at him, suddenly annoyed. "Well then, Jak, why did you sign up?"

"I need to kill the Baron."

Now she understood why he was trying to find a way into the palace, but that didn't make much of a difference. "Of course you do. Everyone does. The question is why."

Jak's cool exterior cracked, allowing hissing steam to lash out and burn any who get too close. He shot her a scathing look, growling, "What do _you_ care?"

Keira stared at him, quiet. Jak hated it. He wanted her to flare up, insult him, push him away, anything other than maintain pregnant silence. After a few agonizing moments more, she softly asked, "Why wouldn't I care?" He frowned at her, watching the wheels turn in her mind. She gazed at him, struggling to find the right words to say, before deciding on, "We're friends aren't we?"

_Friends… _Memories of a deep affection for Keira prodded at Jak's heart, struggling to inject it with tenderness. With a simple question, she revealed a small piece of who she used to be—his childhood friend, his inventive accomplice, his first love—and she looked scared. Scared at what his reaction would be? Jak wasn't sure, but the woman to his right was allowing the girl she once was to shine through… maybe she wasn't completely different after all.

He couldn't bear to look at her any longer and instead turned his attention back to front, switching hover zones to speed beneath a slow driver. "Yeah," he muttered, "sure."

Keira stared down at her hands and said, her voice sounding cool and collected, "I've been looking for you guys forever and planning a way for us to get back home. Somehow that rift took us far into the future. I've calculated the time displacement—"

Jak interjected, "We found your father…well, sort of."

Daxter piped up, "He's been working with—"

"The Underground," Keira cut off the ottsel, "I know. I met the Shadow a long time ago."

Her statement silently declared that she was already aware of many things, and that she hadn't needed Jak or Daxter's help to acquire the knowledge. After tremulously bridging a small gap over the unease, the hardships of the last two years gathered between them, yawning into a wider chasm that consumed all hope of conversation. Daxter made no further attempts to get things rolling, and the rest of the ride passed in silence.

Before long, they arrived at the ramp leading up to the Mountain Temple and Haven Forest. Jak power slid to a stop, perfectly positioned in front of the ramp. Keira noted the move, impressed. All through out the drive to their destination, Jak navigated the slow traffic of both zoomers above and pedestrians below with impressive adroitness, deftly taking the quickest possible route through the convoluted streets. No wonder he managed to get to the stadium so fast before. _He has top-notch control…just like with the A-grav._

After ascending the ramp and jumping through the nearby warp gate, the trio arrived at the Precursor platform leading to the forest. With a sinking feeling, Jak saw just how small the platform was: barely large enough for one person. The thought of being in close proximity with Keira was extremely uncomfortable.

Jak's musings gave Keira enough time to nimbly leap onto the hemisphere of orange metal, and when he didn't immediately follow she looked back at him, eyebrow raised, wondering what he was waiting for.

Grudgingly, Jak joined her. No sooner than his booted feet met the platform, it whirred to life and jolted forward. Unable to maintain a wide stance with such limited space, both the elves were thrown off balance and grabbed onto one another to keep from falling into the gorge below.

Keira's eyes widened, and she glanced up at an equally unsettled Jak. No sooner had their eyes met than the two steadied themselves and, moving their hands firmly to their sides, looked elsewhere as though nothing happened. Daxter watched the exchange and rolled his eyes.

Making a weak attempt to cover up the moment's awkwardness, Keira asked, "How are you figuring on handling the metal heads? We could split up and take them out twice as fast."

"Fine by me." He replied gruffly, and Keira felt the urge to wince. Was he really that unhappy to see her?

The platform stopped in front of the entrance to the forest, and Keira jumped down, her boots making a soft crunching sound as they crushed the grass. She walked forward, not bothering to wait for Jak, and called without turning around, "You go left, I'll go right."

Keira passed through a Precursor gate and entered into the first open section of Haven Forest. She removed her pistol from her holster and briefly remembered—as she always did—the day Ryker gave it to her. Although she had a morph gun, which she also pulled out, the pistol had always proven an effective weapon. She didn't know it at the time, but Ryker spared no expense when he acquired it for her. It was a truly excellent firearm, especially so, she later learned, because Ryker first brought it to Tess and had it modified. The pistol wound up being a prototype for Tess' famous _sprite_, a gun that packs a powerful punch despite its small size, but even till this day the buxom blonde still claimed she never made any so well as the first. As such, Keira's weapon of choice was her pistol, but she would wield it alongside a morph gun if a mission called for extra firepower.

Jak walked up behind her and stopped in his tracks, gaping. The sight of the petite elf brandishing a pistol and morph gun simultaneously seemed totally incongruous.

Daxter whistled, and exclaimed, "Woah, Keira! You look like a regular Rambo!"

Keira flashed him a grin, a dangerous glint in her eye. "Let's kick some ass!"

She wheeled to the right and after taking a few steps abruptly stopped. Her ears twitched and her head snapped over to a large boulder. A split second later, there was a charred patch of grass where Keira had been standing. She barely managed to leap out of the way.

Now all three were staring at the spot the bullet came from. But there was nothing there. _A stealth… _Jak silently said to himself. His eyes scanned the area, but there was no movement. Ten seconds passed in total silence when another shot rang out and narrowly missed Daxter, singeing his tail. He yelped in surprise, and Jak swiftly reached up and placed a silencing finger against the ottsel's mouth. Jak looked at where the second bullet came from. The metal head managed to move eight feet in ten seconds without him knowing. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the spot where the stealth had been and then the surrounding grass. More silence, and then a few stray green blades bent to ground as though they were stepped on. Jak fired without hesitation and hit the mark. The stealth made a terrible screeching sound, its glowing skull gem flickering as its silhouette wavered into view. And then it was gone again.

Before Jak could do anything else, Keira was spraying the spot in a wide arc with her vulcan fury mod. She hit the creature several times, causing it to flash in and out of sight before its camouflage failed completely, and it was revealed to be a crab. The metal head let loose a flaming barrage of its own, again forcing Keira to jump to the side. She fell to the ground and rolled, the bullets following her path by a scant few inches. Jak immediately fired his blaster and, hitting a shoulder, distracted the crab long enough to let Keira jump back to her feet. She ran behind a tree, and the monster turned on Jak. It not only continued firing but charged, swiping at the elf with huge legs, easily capable of crushing anything unfortunate enough to make contact. Jak ducked, feeling the air surge overhead, but before he could react any further another leg swung out. He would have crumpled to the ground, knees broken, if Keira hadn't shot the crab in the eye, causing it to scream in pain and flail about like worm on a hook. Jak took the opportunity to leap onto the metal head's back and blow a hole in its short neck.

Its spine severed, the crab fell to the ground with a shudder. The ghostly yellow skull gem popped out and bounced several times before coming to rest at the base of a boulder.

Jak slowly exhaled, willing his tensed muscles to relax.

Daxter stared down at the metal head carcass. "Uh… maybe you two should take 'em on together."

"Are you joking?" Jak snarled, surprised at how angry he sounded, "If I didn't have to cover for _her _I would've killed this thing in half the time!"

Keira, already having stepped out from behind the tree, retorted, "That's bullshit, and you know it! Have you ever encountered a crab head that smart?"

Jak didn't respond.

"Maybe the camouflage augments more than just their appearance, but whatever the reason stealths are clearly more intelligent." She paused, thoughtful, and added, "Besides, you would be mince meat now if I hadn't plugged its eye."

"And _you _would be full of holes if I hadn't got its shoulder," Jak's tone was hard and dangerous. He would not be shown up.

"Ok, children," Daxter interjected, "you _both _took down the stealth! Now can you live with sharing the glory or do I have to separate you two?"

Said "children" looked first at the ottsel and then each other, each resembling a cornered flut flut—angry, possibly violent, but knowing there's only one option.

Scowling, Jak strode past Keira and muttered, "Come on."

The trio spent the better part of two hours clearing out the forest. All the stealths were ultimately just disguised crabs and gunners, but they were indeed smarter than the average metal head. More often than not, they attacked in groups of three, forcing Jak and Keira to occasionally hit and mostly run. But with each encounter, the pair became more comfortable with one another's style and subsequently a more efficient team.

After yet another skirmish, Daxter surveyed the ruined clearing. Huge swaths of grass were reduced to charred vegetation, raw, pale yellow patches glistened on a number of trees, and four metal head corpses lay in copious pools of blue blood. "I can't imagine Old Green'll be too happy about the damage."

"He might stew a little about it," Keira said, "but he'll be able to fix the forest back up once the metal heads are gone. He might not be a sage, but he still has a talent for green eco."

Jak held up a warning hand, silencing the conversation. Keira looked at Jak, and he held up three fingers and flicked his head towards a fallen tree spanning a ditch. Keira nodded and, guns at the ready, scrutinized the spot for the slightest movement.

Two shots simultaneously burst out of invisible guns on top of and below the tree bridge, aimed at each elf. Both dove to the side and, before even hitting the ground, fired on where the bullets came from. The stealths, their camouflage armor gone after taking several hits, screeched in a repetitive sequence. The unearthly sound rang throughout the forest, and the metal heads were so focused on shrieking they paid no attention to their assailants. Jak took the opportunity to pop each off with a head shot, killing them instantly.

Daxter jumped off his shoulder and scurried over to collect the skull gems. "Yeesh! What was _that _noise all about?"

Jak rubbed his ringing ears with a free hand. "I'm not sure." He took the skull gems from Daxter and placed them in his side bag. "Maybe they were trying to throw us off. None of the other stealths have made noise like that."

"Or maybe they were the only ones left and just saying their last words, you know, pleading for mercy and all that."

"No," Keira walked forward, glancing around the clearing, "they were communicating."

As if on cue, the ground shook beneath their feet and a rumbling sound vibrated through the air. Daxter hastily returned to his shoulder perch, and Jak glanced at Keira. "Sounds like we're in for their last hurrah."

Daxter's eyes darted fearfully around. "I can't tell where they're coming from."

"That's because they're coming from all directions," Jak said, "We'll be completely surrounded."

The ground shook harder and the rumbling grew louder. And then all was still. Jak inhaled, his whole body tensing in the split second before the impending chaos.

The next instant rendered the world into a sea of eco fueled fire. Bullets were streaming at them from all directions, heating up the very air with their white hot charges. Jak had no time for shooting and poured all his effort into dodging, but even all his skill didn't stop the bullets from grazing him, nicks appearing all over his body. In the last moment, he jerked his head to the side, trading a gaping hole in his skull for a searing cut on his right cheek. The constant volleys forced Jak backwards, and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before he'd run out of space.

"Jak!" Keira yelled, her voiced barely audible above the din, "Get out your vulcan fury mod, and when I give the signal fire like there's no tomorrow!"

He obeyed, whipping a barrel attachment out of his bag and onto his gun. He barely jammed a glowing blue clip into the chamber when his back collided with Keira's and she yelled, "NOW!"

Jak squeezed the trigger and opened up like he never had before. Feeling pressure from Keira in his left shoulder blade, he suddenly understood her plan. The two elves, began rotating around, firing blind in a wide circle at the dozens of surrounding metal heads. A cacophony of alien screaming split the air, replacing the sound of the guns that abruptly stopped firing. Jak and Keira continued turning, and after the third pass the stealths were all visible.

Outraged at their foiled strategy, the metal heads, charged inward, roaring.

Keira turned to Jak as she reached into her jacket. "How high can you jump?" She pulled out a round object resembling a KG grenade.

"Just tell me when."

Gripping both sides of the object, she pulled, extending it by two inches. The internal panel started blinking red in time with an ominous beep. "The last possible second."

Jak shouldered his morph gun, wrapped an arm around Keira's slight waist, and bent his legs, preparing like a coiled up spring. The metal heads converged and the beeping sped up. Jak waited till the monsters were so close he could feel the air pushing in around him, rank with their stink, and then leapt with incredible force. The beeping crescendoed and Keira threw the grenade down where they had been standing. Jak landed on top of a crab and bolted without hesitation over the top of the roiling mass of bodies packed in so close they functioned as a living floor. The metal heads in the center, rather than ripping up frail elf bodies, crashed into one another and toppled, adding to the confusion. Jak jumped off the last creature and, instead of landing, grabbed a low tree branch and swung with all the strength he could muster, sending the trio flying through air.

They were propelled further when a mighty explosion tore through the clearing, sending a formidable shockwave through the forest. Jak instinctively gripped Keira and twisted just before they hit the ground behind a large boulder, causing him to take the brunt of the fall. After several rolls they came to a stop, and bits and pieces of metal head rained down around them, landing with dull thuds and clangs.

Now that the danger was gone, Keira realized with a wince how sore she was. She was undoubtedly covered in cuts and bruises, and given the burning sensation on her back she wondered if the blast managed to singe her. She opened her eyes, mildly confused to see her hand resting on blue leather. Gaze widening, she quickly lifted herself up and looked down at the blonde elf beneath her.

Jak's arms were still wrapped around her, and his eyes were closed beneath a deeply creased brow. He groaned, and it occurred to her that he had turned mid-air and landed first, sparing her further injury.

"Jak!" she said as his arms went slack, "Jak, are you alright?!"

She was answered with another groan, and he gulped in a mouthful of air as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He opened one blue eye and said, "Could you get off?"

"Oh, right!" she exclaimed and rolled off of him. He inhaled again, even more deeply, like he could breath better without the extra weight.

A thin whine floated over to them. Keira glanced at a spot several feet away where Daxter had evidently landed and was sitting up, rubbing the back of his head. "What the hell was that thing?"

"The bomb?" The ottsel nodded. "It's one of my inventions, a plasma core. It utilizes the attributes of bombs as well as grenades, allowing the user to throw it and still get a big boom. It has a blast radius of up to ten meters."

"I thought Tess handled the weapons," Daxter complained as though nothing would be wrong if only the blonde beauty was the plasma core's creator.

Keira shook her head and swiped at blood seeping from a cut on her hand. "No, Tess deals exclusively with firearms."

By this time, Jak had managed to prop himself up on his elbows and probe his head for any lumps. Finding none, he suddenly spotted Keira's morph gun, flung up against a nearby stone in the blast. He stared at the gun, confused. It was practically double in length and had a large turbine-like ring at the end of the barrel. What mod looked like _that_?

"Did Tess deal up that one then?"

Her attention brought to the gun, Keira cursed, boosted off the ground, and ran over to inspect it. Aiming at the rock it had crashed against, she pulled the trigger. The only response was a sharp whirring that quickly died after sputtering out a few weak currents of blue electricity. Keira cursed again and punched a panel in the gun's side. She tried firing again, but got no response.

Jak pushed himself up into a full sitting position, his shoulder that hit the ground protesting by shooting needles of pain down his back and arm, and asked, "What is it?"

Keira sighed deeply and turned her eyes skyward. "It's Tess' latest prototype, the arc wielder. It shoots out huge rays of blue eco that can fry most metal heads to a crisp." She looked back down at the gun as she walked back towards Jak, chagrined, "And she just wanted me to test it out. She's gonna kill me..."

Daxter joined the two, saying, "Ah, no worries, babe! If I come along she'll let you off easy! After all, nobody can resist the sexy charms of orange—"

"Jak—you're face!" Keira holstered the morph gun and bent to her knee, holding up a concerned hand, "There's dark eco on your cheek!"

Startled, Jak reached up and felt the cut beneath his right eye, suddenly realizing what she was seeing. He stood up and swayed slightly on unsteady legs before managing to walk off towards the exit.

"Wait!"

Jak kept on walking and didn't look at her. "What is there to wait for? Haven't you ever seen anybody bleed dark eco before?" He was surprised at how gruff his voice sounded.

He could hear her light feet pad in the grass behind him and halted when she jumped in front of him. He saw the look in her eyes and barely refrained from shoving past her and flat out running back to the city. Her green depths radiated concern for him, fear of what could be happening to him—Precursors, he needed to get away from those eyes.

"Why does it happen?"

Her coldly regarded her, his dark blue gaze narrow. "…You don't need to know."

"Yes, I do!"

"Like hell!"

He stalked around her, but was again stopped when she placed herself in his path. She was angry now. "Why do you think you can't tell me? _Me!_ I've known you as long as Daxter!"

"Yeah, well you don't know me anymore!" He was yelling now.

"Only because you won't let me!"

Jak paused again. _I need to get out of here! _"I don't want your pity…or anyone else's!"

Keira stared at him, stricken into temporary silence. "…What happened to you?"

Jak walked around her again, struggling to keep from sprinting as far away as possible, his fists clenched tight, his footfalls mechanical.

She didn't follow him.

Daxter quietly ran up and climbed up to his friend's shoulder. The ottsel hesitated before starting, "Uh…Jak—"

The elf cut him off before he could say anything that would weaken Jak's resolve. "It doesn't matter."

She was no longer his Keira, and he was no longer the boy who could call her his own.

* * *

...and jak is an angsty little toe rag. be that as it may, i had a lot of fun putting my own spin on the "happy" reunion. things will only get more interesting from here. (evil laugh) ;) 

review and win a new zoomer!


	13. Low Expectations

wow! i wonder how long it's been since i last did an update within a week of the previous chapter. with any luck, this means that now that i've finally gotten to the reunion that i'll be able to get the story to flow out better. it's way more fun to write now that keira and jak have met up again. the juicy parts are getting ever closer!

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Low Expectations**

All Tess needed was one look at Keira to know her friend was incredibly upset. And even if it wasn't written all over her face, the last time the aqua-haired elf walked into the _Hip Hog_ at three in the morning was the night Vivian and Ryker were arrested.

Tess, glad that the bar's rowdy crowd was mostly gone for the evening, waited till Keira sat down in one of the stools with a heavy thump before saying, "Looks like it's a good thing I'm working the late shift."

Keira placed her elbows on the bar and allowed her head to hang slightly, her ears drooping. She nodded, resembling a half wilted flower.

Tess gazed at her with soft blue eyes, concerned. "Can I make you something?" she asked, her voice gentle, almost maternal.

Keira looked up, smiling weakly, and said, "Gimme the strongest drink you have."

"One _Tess Special _coming right up!" She turned around, grabbed a multitude of bottles, and poured the spirits into a large mug with practiced ease. She reached for a stirring utensil and, turning back to Keira, placed the mug on the bar and proceeded to mix its contents. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Keira blew air out her nose in short puffs, the sound mimicking a shadow of a chuckle. "Once I've gotten a huge swig, yes. Badly."

Tess laughed. "Nothing quite like a good buzz to get the words flowing is there?" She finished mixing and, after tapping the stirring utensil on the rim, slid the mug towards Keira. The elf didn't hesitate to take the mug and tilt it to the ceiling, downing half the drink in three gulps. Barely a year ago, one sip would double her up in a coughing fit.

Replacing the mug on the bar with a loud thunk, Keira slowly inhaled, eyes closed, before asking, "You remember how I came here with three people and was crazy about one of them?"

Tess nodded, leaning on the bar, completely attentive.

"Well," Keira continued, opening her eyes, "he's the new recruit."

Tess' mouth fell open and she stared at her friend, shocked. "Your lover boy is _Jak?_"

Keira's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "Yeah, my 'lover boy.'"

"I never imagined that you—rather the old you—would fall for such a—"

"Arrogant, pig-headed, hard-nosed, violent, raging, conceited, immature jerk?" Keira offered.

Tess dipped her head, blue eyes rolling thoughtfully to the ceiling. "…Those weren't exactly the words I was looking for, but they fit him pretty well actually."

"Yeah, well, he wasn't always like that. In fact he was a completely different person before we came here…just like me."

Tess sighed. "Haven does have a way of wrecking people's lives."

Keira gulped down another mouthful of her drink. "But how? _How? _What in the name of the Precursors could so totally change a person?"

Tess shrugged, replying, "All I know is he was in the Baron's prison before he joined the Underground."

Keira looked up at Tess, frowning. "Why? For how long?"

Tess shook her head. "No clue… so I guess this means you know Daxter too."

"The three of us grew up together."

Tess raised a blonde eyebrow, interested. "Wow! It's not often you hear of a girl growing up with an ottsel."

Keira glared at her friend. "Geez, you and Torn both. Before he fell into a pool of dark eco he was a regular person."

"Really," Tess raised both eyebrows now, "what did he look like?"

"Nothing special." Keira's tone suggested she had no interest in discussing Tess' infatuation with Daxter.

The blonde looked apologetic. "Sorry. Back to you." Keira took another swig from her mug, and Tess tentatively asked, "How'd you meet up with Jak?"

Over the next half hour, Keira relayed the story with great detail. Tess occasionally nodded, spoke words of encouragement, and placed her hand over Keira's for support. The pair dwelled on Jak's cryptic statements regarding his past and how it could be possible for a person to bleed dark eco. And then Keira turned the conversational wheel back to the days before Haven City. She spoke of growing up in a small village by the sea, a place where life was simple, slow, and safe. She painted a picture of a completely different Jak, a happy, innocent, and mute youth—something Tess found very difficult to imagine. Keira's voice was bittersweet, full of regret for good times lost, and yet she never shed a tear. The blonde found this particularly surprising as Keira downed two Tess Specials while speaking and was drunk towards the end of her stories. Working in a bar, Tess knew from experience that drowning one's sorrows in alcohol generally made them more poignant and therefore easier for one to just break down and weep like a child, but her friend never even came close. Keira's eyes were as dry as they are green.

After Keira brought her commentary about the old life to a close, Tess said, "Now I'm really worried."

Keira looked at her, swaying slightly. "Why?" Her mouth formed the word lazily, nearly slurring.

"Because," Tess responded, "you're more upset than I've ever seen you before, but you're not crying."

Keira waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Pssh! I haven' cried—" she hiccupped, "for two years."

"Some people would call that unhealthy."

"Well," Keira scowled and stared into her empty mug, "some—people are idiots."

Tess drummed her fingers on the bar, wondering how best to approach the next topic. "Look… are you sober enough to remember some advice?"

The aqua-haired elf closed her eyes and frowned, considering, and nodded.

Tess placed her hands flat on the bar and said, "My take on the situation is this: the problem isn't you, it's Jak. Whatever happened to him since getting to Haven, he's ashamed of it, and if he cared about you as much as you did him, then I bet he's afraid of what you'll think."

Keira stared at Tess, a small crease folded in the center of her brow. "Why would he—be? He doesn' have any problems with Daxter."

"Because Daxter's a friend and you're something more. It's always easier for friends to accept each other."

Keira tugged on a strand of hair, chewing her lower lip, and dryly responded, "How—encouraging."

Tess smiled sympathetically at the aqua-haired elf. "Just give it some time. With any luck, he'll realize that it doesn't matter if you two have changed."

"But," Keira placed her chin in her hand, her face suddenly an emotionless mask, "maybe it _does_."

* * *

_He heard waves. They sounded far, distant, yet he could smell the brine and taste the salt; he could feel them stirring against the sands within him. And voices…voices through his consciousness, melded so tightly with the waves…_

"_Continue your search…and eco. The locals possess Precursor…know what to do!" _

…_he wondered if there was any difference._

"…_doin' here anyway, Jak? This place gives me…think we're in trouble!"_

_The lullaby of the ocean…_

"…_change is an improvement! …only one person…studied dark eco long enough."_

…_a constant ebb and flow…_

"_Now that you carry the weight of darkness on your shoulders…"_

"_Rule…don't date animals."_

"…_you alone cannot save us."_

…_like a chorus of voices._

"_Damn monsters patrollin'…took a bite outta my fishin' rig!"_

"_Our last hope…"_

"_Ding, ding! Third…chains, roach…torture devices."_

"…_when you get across…the teleport gate…Blue Sage's lab."_

"…_rests with one still untouched by pain…"_

"…_surprisingly resistant…experiments, Baron Praxis…Dark Warrior Program has failed."_

"…_A light eco crystal…"_

"_Here's a power cell…help you out. Now…get back to my research."_

"…_and you must protect this young soul…"_

"… _tried attacking him with your melodrama? … killing me!"_

"_And Maia, I told…dark eco would affect you both!"_

"…_got to save my father before…And, Jak? Be careful."_

"…_in our moment of truth."_

"…_Gordy? Wouldn't…less time…you dug too?"_

"_Initiating dark…injection cycle."_

"_Fine…forgive you this time…remember… still the stud of the duo."_

"…_happened to you?"_

"_I grant you another dark power!"_

"_You cannot hide from me, boy!"_

"NO!" Jak flew bolt upright into a sitting position, his closed fist stretched out before him as though he were trying to grab something. He glanced over to a still sound asleep Daxter, snoring softly in his drawer. Jak looked at his arm, curiously—the appendage shone with beads of cold sweat. Already they were drying, robbing his body of heat in the process.

Jak pulled his legs up, loosely knotting his hands around them, and rested his forehead on sore knees. He panted, gulping in air as though the weight of his dreams were smothering him. _Dreams… _Yes, that's right. He was dreaming of Sandover…not just Sandover but of fighting Gol and Maia, of incarceration and torture in the Baron's Fortress, of finding Keira again—and woven through the nearly incoherent sea of memories was the thread of the Oracle. After leaving Haven Forest, he felt the strange siren call for the third time. Injured, exhausted, he allowed his aching feet to carry him to the shack in the Water Slums, only half-conscious of the journey.

Jak recalled the sensation of his transformation being forced into being, and then feeling more powerful than ever before. _That…thing…it's invincible now. I'm invincible._

He remembered the Oracle's words with a frown. _"Our last hope rests with one still untouched by pain." _What did it mean? And why did he have to protect this person? Why would the Precursors place their "last hope" with someone who can't defend against the oncoming invasion? But far more disturbing was the resounding message that Jak wasn't good enough.

"_Now that you carry the weight of darkness on your shoulders, you alone cannot save us." _

Jak cursed the Baron with renewed fervor. The dark eco treatments robbed him of his innocence, his compassion, his love, and now his ability to save the weak—as well as himself.

Soft blue glowing through the cracks in the boarded windows heralded the coming of the daily reborn sun. The time was likely no later than five in the morning, and thanks to the trip to see the Oracle delaying his return to HQ, Jak barely managed two hours of sleep—not that this was uncommon. He very seldom slept well.

Throwing aside the covers, Jak stood up and searched the room for his clothes. Locating them in a crumpled pile in what appeared to be the bird's nest's dustiest corner, he quickly pulled on his pants and boots and descended the many ladders and rotting staircases to HQ.

Jak passed over to the hidden panel, gratefully noting that Torn was nowhere to be seen, and opened the wall to the Underground's secret rooms. He walked past the supply room, armory, and training area swiftly, only seeing one other person getting in a little early target practice, and headed into the showers.

Jak removed his clothes, once again tossing them in a corner, and stepped into a stall. He turned on the water as hot as it would go and then stood perfectly still in sheer bliss. A solid two years without bathing has a way of breeding a whole new level of appreciation for daily ablutions. Jak's first shower after escaping, to put it mildly, was a religious experience. He felt reborn, as though the water cleansed him of the horrors of prison, renewing and infusing his abused body with liquid vitality. He felt, at the time, as though he could take on the Baron right then and there. Needless to say, Jak's subsequent showers didn't have quite the same effect, but there were still few things capable of making him feel better.

Yet even through the water's elating curtain, one name floated unabated into his mind.

The trend did continue. Now that Jak had found Keira, the final pieces did fall into place. For the first time since the dark eco treatments began, he could vividly remember Sandover, the villagers, his adventures. And the memories tortured him with more power than ever before, reminding him of what was lost.

"_We're friends aren't we?" _Jak punched the wall with surprising force, his fist smashing the tile as easily as canvas. Like they were ever just "friends." Like they ever could be again.

How could she understand? Likely, it was no longer even possible. Jak made every effort to push her away just a few hours earlier, and all because of one look. She was happy to see Daxter—_he_ was exactly the same—but when she saw Jak, her smile disappeared. And what she had said… "Different" could mean any number of things, and none of them good. Ultimately, she meant he had changed for the worse…and Jak agreed with her.

"…_What happened to you?" _No, she never would understand. Jak wouldn't let her see the extent to which a valiant spirit can twist into something ugly. He was too fouled by darkness. She deserved better.

Despite himself Jak whispered her name. "Keira…"

She would never love him again.

* * *

Daxter patted his full belly and stretched on the table, thoroughly satisfied. The day got off to a wonderfully lazy start when Jak didn't wake up his friend for some mission but simply let him sleep. Daxter didn't get out of his drawer until nearly eleven that morning. Since Jak was nowhere to be seen, Daxter took off for the _Hip Hop Heaven Saloon_. He was quite disappointed when Tess wasn't there and decided to cheer himself up with some old-fashioned skirt chasing. Upon returning to HQ in mid-afternoon, Daxter found Jak and the pair went out for a "snack." Despite his tiny size, the ottsel had somehow managed to down an entire twenty ounce yakow steak in five minutes, a feat that never failed to impress Jak. Maybe Torn was just giving them a break after the stealth mission, maybe there just wasn't any work to dish out, but either way Daxter very much enjoyed having a day off. 

Except for one thing.

Jak was miserable, although few people would know it. The only way Daxter could really tell was how Jak absent-mindedly flexed his large, right hand into a fist, an unconscious habit that the ottsel had already observed for over ten years. Whenever they were younger, the elf often did so when he felt nervous or upset.

Daxter wasn't at all sure how to broach the responsible subject, so he arbitrarily chose the blunt approach. "So, what are thinking about Keira?"

Jak's face remained stoic but his hand flexed faster, beginning to resemble chomping jaws with fingers for teeth. "I told you, it doesn't matter."

"You're lying." Jak shot Daxter a glare, but the ottsel grinned back quite calmly, "No way am I gonna let you off that easy, big guy. I know you too well."

Jak stared down at his empty plate. "If you do then you should know the answer to that question."

"Nope, I got no clue…especially since you two have had it hot most of our lives."

"Yeah, well that was before." Jak held up his hand and scowled at it as though it would blanch and grow black claws right before his eyes. "I don't have time for that kind of thing anymore."

Daxter, still flat on the table, raised up a skinny arm, index finger raised to punctuate his point, and said, "You mean you _won't _make time because you're so focused on payback."

Jak resumed flexing his right hand. "…Why on earth would she still want me, Dax? I've turned about the darkest shade of black possible."

The ottsel looked pointedly at his friend then allowed his head to flop back on the table. "I don't have a problem with you."

"You have low expectations."

Daxter was about to retort, but he lost his train of thought entirely when a mighty belch exploded out of his furry maw. The utterly ridiculous timing caused Jak to not only smile but laugh uproariously. At times like these, Daxter could almost pretend that they were still two knucklehead friends constantly getting into trouble for lack of anything better to do—that nothing had changed.

The duo left the open-air bistro, prepared to wander around the Bazaar and see what there was to do, when Jak's comm. unit flew out of his bag.

"You want another crack at the Baron?"

Jak and Daxter stared at the floating box simultaneously, eyes widening not only at Keira's voice but at the tone of it. She spoke with the cadence of one perfectly at ease—like nothing had happened the previous night. Indeed, she sounded quite normal, perhaps even amused. Daxter glanced at his friend, wondering how he might handle such a turn of events.

Jak stared at the comm. unit, utterly disarmed. If anything, he was expecting hot anger, swelling sadness, or at least stony indifference from Keira. But she seemed content, even friendly. Daxter felt rather happy with the reaction.

Before he could stop himself, Jak asked, "What have you got for me?"

"You'll find out. Meet me in the garage at the stadium." _Amazing, _Daxter thought, _she sounds just fine._

"When do I need to be there?" _Even Jak sounds half normal._

"One hour." And with that, Keira signed off and the comm. unit glided back into Jak's bag.

* * *

Keira welded a tank cover onto the rift rider, trying hard to pretend like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. 

She had returned to the garage at four in the morning, not entirely sober, and collapsed into one of the deepest REM cycles she had experienced in years. An ocean of fatigue swallowed her whole. She slept dreamlessly for hours, replenishing her exhausted body and mind, and didn't wake up before lunch. Although she managed to escape a full blown hang-over, her head still ached uncomfortably as soon as she sat up in bed.

But she hadn't lied to Tess; she _was_ sober enough to remember the blonde's advice. Keira had mulled it over during the ride back to the stadium and continued doing so after rising for the day. After much deliberation, Keira decided to swallow her wounded pride and act like she would with anyone. She would act as though nothing had happened between her and Jak. And then she would wait.

Already, she was seeing—rather hearing—results. Jak's voice was completely innocuous, not quite masking his surprise that she was anything other than barely civil.

Before long, she distracted herself with the rift rider long enough for Jak and Daxter to arrive. She heard their footsteps—big, clunking ones accompanied by small, padding ones—and stepped out from behind the green curtain, carefully pasting an engaging expression on her face.

Despite every effort to remain invulnerable, the sight of Jak sent a warm wave of desire washing over Keira. She ignored it as best she could and sidled up to the pair, unconsciously striking her signature hip pop pose.

Before she could stop herself, an image of the pair returning with a load from the Precursor ring as she ran out to greet them flashed in her mind's eye.

She raised one eyebrow, knowing full well the small movement would create a mischievous, mocking impression, and greeted them, "Hello, boys."

Jak, although he looked discombobulated, didn't bite, but went right to the point. "What's this about getting back at the Baron?"

Keira smirked, noting with satisfaction that both elf—though he tried to hide it—and ottsel appeared mystified by her behavior. "Win the Class One Racing Championship. The winner of that big race always gets to meet the Baron in the palace. But you have to qualify by winning the lower class races. There's a Class Three race starting soon. You can drive for my team."

Daxter struck a confident pose. "Should be a piece of cake!"

"Not necessarily." Keira walked over to a work table where a zoomer was propped up on supports. It looked completely different from the zoomers of Haven's streets. The vehicle was highly stream-lined, obviously built for speed. Keira placed a hand on the engine cover. "These zoomers are a whole new breed of animal. They're extremely responsive—high on handling, acceleration, and speed. If you're not careful about the sensitivity of the controls," Keira punched her right hand into her left palm, "you'll wind up just another smoldering grease stain on the track. Participants in racing never fail to play dirty. Other drivers won't hesitate to grind you off the course, so stay on your toes. It's only five laps to victory, so pick up as many turbo boosts around the track as you can."

Daxter gulped nervously, but Jak coolly responded, "Nothing more than I can handle."

The intercom came to life, and a male voice announced, "_Attention all drivers, the Class Three Races will begin shortly._"

Keira grinned at the pair. "Good luck!" And with that she waved them out the door, relieved that she could stop pretending it was all okay.

* * *

A song blared over the crowd through scratchy speakers, filling the air with tinny noise. As soon as the music climaxed, the stadium floodlights exploded on with a dramatic flourish. Shining brightly in the sky like obese stars, they easily illuminating the Mar Memorial Stadium. If it were possible, the glaring white light excited the already noisy crowd even more so, as it meant the race would be starting soon. Sure enough, the intercom shortly boomed for all drivers to get into position. A ripple of anticipation swept over the stadium like wind through grass. 

Ashelin wished she could join in the fun. As the Baron's daughter, she could watch any of the races she liked from the Royal Box and often did so as a young girl. Now she was a woman, and currently incapable of putting aside all her concerns for frivolous entertainment. In a way, the inability marked her as a true ruler, one who could not forget the suffering of her people—far more of a ruler than her father. She only attended the class races now, and only for the benefit of those in the stands.

"Honestly, my dear, I do wish you would relax and enjoy the show." Ashelin glanced sideways at Errol, sitting to her right, in a one-eyed glare.

"_I_ wish you would stop spending all your time here and get some real work done. I have to be here, you don't." Her smoky voice had a hissing quality, not unlike an angry snake.

The KG Commander feigned offense, "But then I wouldn't get to spend such splendid, quality time with you."

The loudspeaker crackled and boomed, "Ladies and gentlemen, the race is about to begin!"

Ashelin glanced down at the bridge, as she always did, to watch the racers lowering onto the track, starting indicator hovering at the ready like a metallic bird. Her eyes briefly swept over the drivers and then abruptly stopped. Only by way of many years of strict training was she able to keep her face even and unchanged.

_That idiot! _She thought as she saw Jak join the ranks of racers at the starting line. Didn't he know that Errol always watched any race he wasn't in himself—or was Jak so reckless he didn't care who saw him? Ashelin glanced up at the screen detailing the drivers. Jak's slot had no picture, only information stating he was racer number 2, indicating his status as a late entrant. Again, Ashelin peripherally looked at Errol. The Krimzon Guard Commander didn't seem to be paying attention, but she doubted Jak wouldn't merit it at some point.

The starting indicator hovered before the zoomers and then its lights went on. _One…two…three…GO! _And the racers took off nearly faster than the eye could follow.

Jak opened up the throttle too much and narrowly avoided crashing into the far wall at the first turn. Ashelin realized with a sinking feeling that the elf was a stranger to racing zoomers. The last thing the Underground needed was its new and possibly most valuable muscle ground into oblivion on the track. He was already falling behind the other drivers, most of who were locked in battle, crashing into any who got too close.

Errol smiled, a twisted, ugly expression on his tattooed face. "Listen to the crowd scream. I just love how much they delight in controlled carnage."

Ashelin disguised her disgust with apathy. "There haven't been any accidents yet." Jak recovered quickly, boosting up through the zoomers till he was nearly even with the leader.

"'Yet' being the operative word." No sooner did the words escape Errol's grinning lips than the leader rammed into Jak's zoomer, nearly sending the elf flying out into the pit. Jak boosted out of the danger zone and into the leader's zoomer, forcing him into one of the track's many traps. The leader hit the side of the trap in precisely the wrong way, causing his vehicle to disappear in an explosion of fire and metal shrapnel. The roar from the stands was deafening.

"Ah," Errol leaned back in his cushioned seat, casually crossing his arms, "first blood!" And then the KG Commander noticed Jak's helmet of green and blonde hair. He immediately sat up, yellow eyes following the elf around the track. His attention turned to the screen, where a replay showed the crash up close, allowing for a good look at Jak's face. Errol growled, "_Freak…!_"

Ashelin glanced at the orange-haired man, appearing disinterested. "You know him?"

"He escaped from the Fortress Prison a few weeks ago." His voice ground out between gritted teeth.

Ashelin couldn't help but feel satisfied to see Errol so livid. "Don't you know his name?" she asked casually.

"He never said a word during his…stay with us. But I doubt it could be more fitting than 51007."

Errol remained silent for the rest of the race, watching Jak intently. Ashelin was quite happy with the arrangement; she found the KG Commander's sleazy banter slimier than a mud pit. But she also wondered how Jak would escape the stadium now. No doubt Errol would send guards to find him as soon as the race was over.

Four laps and three crashes later, Jak boosted over the finish line. Errol pressed a button on the arm of his suit and talked into a minute mouthpiece on his wrist. "Prepare to search the stadium. Wait long enough for the trophies to be handed out, and then find the winner." Ashelin swiftly stood and walked out of the Royal Box. She was nearly out of earshot when she heard Errol say, "I want him to taste victory before I ruin his life a second time."

Ashelin quickly headed in the direction of the garages and spotted Jak inside Garage 2. He placed a shining gold trophy amongst the many already on display, grinning broadly. He appeared quite exhilarated. An aqua-haired elf sat on a nearby table, looking on happily. Ashelin recognized the glow in her face immediately.

Jak's odd companion jumped on the shelf and leaned against the trophy, polishing it with his furry knuckles. "When is this city gonna provide some challenge, huh?"

The girl was opening her mouth to respond when Ashelin walked into the garage. All three looked up her simultaneously, varying degrees of surprise on their faces. "Hey, I watched you race today." The redhead's full, scarlet lips curved into a smile. "You were pretty amazing out there." Jak's reaction was instantaneous, a shadow of desire crossing his handsome features. Ashelin noticed, chuckling inwardly. She never failed to find the younger elf's attraction amusing. She also noticed the girl's response.

"Oh, thanks…" the aqua-haired elf stared at Jak, appalled, jealous. "ah, Keira, ah…this is Ashelin…she's just—"

"_Everyone_ knows who she is." Keira clearly wasn't interested in finding out what noun might be applied to the Baron's daughter, which also amused the older woman. _How possessive she is._

Jak looked extremely uncomfortable. "And Keira's a—"

"A friend. A very good friend." Her voice was venomous.

Ashelin spared the girl a cursory glance, her green eyes looking at the younger elf like she would a yapping puppy. _You actually find me that threatening? _She supposed it made sense. Jak clearly found her physically attractive, but that was all. He looked at her with lust, fascination, curiosity—but never with that soft, radiant expression of a man in love. His sheer discomfort with the situation revealed how strongly he actually felt for the girl, although he made a pitiful effort to hide it.

Ashelin turned her attention back to the channeler. "Thanks for helping out with that tanker Jak. You saved a lot of lives." Keira was horrified at the sight of a flush creeping up Jak's face. Ashelin didn't seem to notice, her eyes suddenly looking far away. She felt a ridiculous urge to apologize, for what she didn't know. She settled for, "I'm not my father you know. Ever since I was a little girl I've looked down at the city streets from that ridiculous palace…and imagined a better place."

The redhead turned and was about to walk out of _Axle's Garage _when four krimzon guards ran by. They glanced inside and assumed, since the Baron's daughter was there, that she had everything under control and there was no reason to sweep the garage. Ashelin said without turning around, "By the way, they're hunting for you. I'd watch out for Errol. I can't protect you from him." And with that she left.

Keira fumed. Was _that _why Jak pushed her away? Because he was involved with someone else? The very idea that that someone was Ashelin, a devastatingly gorgeous warrior woman, made her all the more furious.

Daxter whistled. "Whew, she's a betty! And she likes you, Jak," Keira's scowl deepened, "not that I can account for her tastes. I bet you'd love to pin some medals on her chest, huh?" The ottsel laughed, oblivious to his complete lack of tact.

Unable to contain herself, Keira walked—nearly stomped—towards the stairs and up to her small apartment, pointing and yelling over her shoulder, "Hide in the compartment till the guards leave. You _better_ be gone when I come back down!"

Jak stared after her, at a loss for words, and Daxter looked thoroughly confused. "What? What'd I say?" Jak glared at his diminutive companion. "What did you say, Jak?" The elf rolled his eyes and set about examining the section of floor Keira indicated.

* * *

the issue has been broached. can they overcome those magic changes? we'll just have to see.

so, the quotes in the dream sequence are from Jak and Daxter, Jak II, and original dialogue in this fic, although most are from the former. random NPCs quoted from the first game include gol, the fisherman, and willard the miner. the rest are pretty obvious. i had fun writing that part because it was so random and free formed.

i also love it how keira gets shit-faced when jak's basically never had a drink. ;)

and now for another special mention! thanks to **Nienor Daewen**!

_despite jumping into my story only a few months ago, you've reviewed all but two chapters. i'm constantly going back and reworking old chapters, so i love getting the extra feedback on them. you've become an avid supporter, and i always smile when i read your reviews. thanks for the encouragement!_

hope y'all enjoyed the latest installment. review!


	14. Attack

wow. it's been nine whole months since i last submitted a chapter. that's gotta be some kind of record for almost abandoning a story and then coming back. (sigh)

well, i'm coming back with a vengeance. i've had most of this chapter written since september, but i just lost interest for awhile, which is funny because i've been very excited about the second half of this chapter. now, months later, i go and write five pages in one night and finish it up. college does weird things to the creative flow, let me tell you.

anyway, i hope the wait is worth it and that you all enjoy the latest installment! it's time for me to really start putting my own twist on things!

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Attack**

Jak strolled into Onin's tent, remarkably irritable. Rather than waiting for the guards to finish their sweep, he had stayed crammed in the hidden compartment for only five minutes, thinking that would be long enough for the guards' very thorough search to reach the other side of the stadium. However, Jak ran into a search party of two, returning to double-check _Axle's Garage_—not that he minded. Taking out krimzon guards always made him wilder, angrier, and more elated.

But he couldn't get full satisfaction. A quiet, nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him of the elf currently above the garage, and how she would likely find it unpleasant if two metal-clad corpses were waiting just outside the big sliding doors. He didn't kill either of the guards, merely incapacitated them. At the very least he had the gratification of knowing Errol would not be too pleased.

Jak was left with the whole trip to the bazaar to ponder what the events inside _Axle's Garage _meant, although it was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to put Keira as far from his thoughts as possible, but her behavior made it even more difficult to do so. First, she was collected and nearly as flirty as the old days; second, she was incredibly jealous; third, she was furious. He didn't know what to think.

And so, Jak was so tetchy upon arriving at Onin's tent he missed whatever greeting was given and had to force his mind into focus to catch the Shadow's next words. "The birdbrain and I were just talking about you, Jak." Pecker cast the little, green man an indignant glare. "Onin is very proud of what you did."

Jak placed his hands on his hips, confused. "What I did?"

Pecker swept his colorful wings in grand gestures. "What you did…what you'll do…it's all the same."

Daxter, unable to contain himself, yelled, "Will you stop with the deja voodoo stuff?! It's creepy!"

The ancient woman's hands began twirling and clapping, emitting sparkles of blue light. Samos continued as though the ottsel's complaints were merely the whine of an errant gust of wind, "Onin says you must find the Tomb of Mar."

Pecker cut in, "Even now, Baron Praxis seeks the tomb, but only—RRRAWRK—the one true heir of Mar can open the tomb's seal."

"We believe the kid is the key." Samos provided.

"The prophecies say the true heir of Mar must face the ancient oracle. He alone must circumvent the cunning tests of manhood; he alone must wield the Precursor Stone, thereby unleashing th—geeze Louise, fossil lady! Stop with the snooty, mystic talk already!" Pecker leaned over the edge of the basket on Onin's head, meeting her milky eyes with an upside down glower. "You know that it hurts my lips!"

Jak, anxious to get to the point, asked, "Why is Mar's Tomb so important?"

Pecker sat back up in his basket perch. "The fabled Precursor Stone is rumored to sleep within the tomb, stupid!" The monkey bird's wings indicated his feathered chest. "_I _added the stupid part." His aside earned scowls from both Jak and Daxter, but he continued unphased, "The Precursor Stone contains vast eco energies. It can be used for great good or…" Pecker ominously fluttered his primary feathers as though they were fingers, "great eeeevil! I just love saying that last part!"

He grinned gleefully, and Samos took the opportunity to say, "The Baron wants the Precursor Stone for himself to rule the world. But he is playing with forces he does not understand." Daxter failed to stifle a mighty yawn.

Jak mulled the idea over. Things were getting way more complicated than he ever conceived they would, but the only one available option was to do what they. Otherwise, he wouldn't get anywhere. "Okay, Pecker, so how do I get this Precursor Stone?"

Before the monkey bird could answer, Samos responded, "First, you must go to the dig and find the Lurker Totem. Onin and I have learned a piece to the Seal of Mar is contained within its ancient carvings. You must find all three pieces of the seal to open Mar's Gate into the canyon."

Jak raised his eyebrows at the last statement. '_Mar's gate into the canyon?' _He chose not to ask, opting for a speedy trip to the dig instead. He ducked out of Onin's tent, impatient to distract his wandering mind with physical challenge.

Thankfully, the dig proved quite an effective diversion. Jak remained totally ensconced in clearing open lava, locating switches, and dismembering metal heads. He only had mental capacity enough to dwell on the task at hand, allowing him to remain blissfully thoughtless of the many happenings in his life.

However, the time passed all too quickly. The Lurker Totem loomed above Jak, wooden and primitive. Its four faces consisted of simple shapes. Circles for eyes, squares for noses—the Totem had been constructed from a minimalist perspective, utilizing only the plainest of line and color to create a surprisingly powerful and imposing sculpture, much like a mountain white with snow.

Jak glanced expectantly at Daxter. The ottsel lifted his left foot and right arm, prepared to spring into action. "I'm on it!" Then he paused, considering, before lowering said appendages and holding up his hands defensively. "Wait a minute! I think this time you should go get the thing!"

Jak ran his gaze up the length of the Lurker Totem, unhappy with the idea.

* * *

"I can't believe we're listening to anything that purple fleabag has to say!" Daxter exclaimed for the tenth time. Jak clenched his jaw, groping for some semblance of patience.

"I don't like it either, but if we can laugh in Praxis' face when we get the Precursor Stone before he does then I have no problem looking around for these seal pieces." Jak sidestepped, narrowly avoiding running into a hefty man ambling along the small walkways of the Water Slums.

Daxter glared at his friend, not interested in seeing reason. "Who cares about laughing! I just wanna take a break, maybe go rent a bachelor pad somewhere—"

"Good luck with that." Jak cut him off, his voice sounding grim. "It's not like we can just take off and visit Rock Village for a breather anymore."

"Well I still say we should just head back to HQ and let it go. Listening to a lurker—"

"Is exactly what we're going to do!" Jak tried to lower his voice, reigning himself back under control. "…We need any leads we can get, so quit whining and let's get this over with."

The Water Slums had a particularly distasteful stink to them today, causing both elf and ottsel to wrinkle their noses. The further into the maze of shanties and walkways they penetrated, the worse the air smelled. Not that such a fact was surprising. The Water Slums were the worst place one could live in Haven City. The corrugated tin roof homes were packed closer together than in any other neighborhood, stuffing people into close quarters like sardines into a can. With no better way to dispose of it, trash was dumped into the stagnant waters and stewed under the hot sun into a rancid gumbo of refuse. Needless to say, the Water Slums always smelled formidable.

A narrow gap between the homes revealed a flat metal plain. They were nearly to the enormous wall surrounding the city. Jak turned a corner on the crumbling walkway and arrived at a shack tucked almost all the way into the southeast corner. He examined the structure of warped metal alloy, rotting wood, and broken glass. Evidently, it had been abandoned for quite some time—but that didn't catch his attention as much as the glowing object stuck in the door.

The comm. unit buzzed to life and floated out of Jak's pack. Brutter's guttural voice sputtered out of the tiny speaker, excited. "That is it! Piece of seal, yes? Nice and shiny, huh? All yours!" The lurker paused, and then exclaimed, "Uh oh! I think red troopers approaching!"

Jak turned around as a series of whirs sounded. Several KG transports descended on the rickety walkways surrounding the elf, hovering just high enough to allow hordes of red armored soldiers troops to leap out.

Jak muttered, "Damn lurkers and their ultra sensitive hearing."

Daxter's large eyes widened. "You gotta be kidding me!" Beneath his usual grating timbre, the ottsel's voice was small and tremulous.

Jak growled, "Have they been following us, or was this just a trap?"

"Either way they sure planned well. Look!" Daxter pointed at a spot behind a wooden column supporting the walkway. A robotic gun darted across the water, its sizable twin barrels glinting in the sunlight filtering through the planks above. "If we take a swim we'll get a round of breathing holes blown in our hides."

Jak glared at a nearing group of krimzon guards. "Forcing us to take the long way out are you?"

He rushed the nearest guard and, whipping his morph gun from its holster in a blurred arc of silver, crushed the right side of his face in. Jak nimbly leapt over the red armored soldier, now in a crumpled heap on the boardwalk, and ran through ten more, knocking each one into the scummy water below where the robotic gun lay in wait. Guards jumped out of a KG transport in a never ending stream directly in the pair's path, and Jak put on a fresh burst of speed. Fighting all the guards in such close quarters would require far more effort than Jak was willing to give at the moment. With any luck, he might be able to employ a hit and run strategy.

Barreling through the guards with such force that most were pushed over the edge before they had time to react, Jak began to think his quick-finish plan would work when a suspicious whir and clank threaded through the din of fighting. The elf looked up quickly enough to see a gun mounted on the base of the KG transport lock onto him. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding a laser hot grilling, but the gun followed Jak and forced him further back towards the shack. A few feet more and he was out of range but far from being out of danger. The KG transports would box him in and force him to fight most of the guards. If all went in the Baron's favor, the constant stream of guards would wear Jak down.

Snarling, Jak let loose a frenzy of bullets. After killing all but one of the red-armored soldiers, the elf was abruptly cut off, his body seized in blue violence not dissimilar to dark eco rays. Sheer willpower combined with warrior instincts clamped down on his mind and extended to his right hand, barely stopping him from losing all control and dropping his morph gun. A scant, few seconds later, the currents of electricity stopped. Jak nearly collapsed, but not before he shot the responsible guard in the head. The Baron's lackey fell onto the creaky boards, twitching, his life so abruptly cut off he still held his taser rifle in a death grip.

With a deepening whoosh, the KG transport launched out of its hover and rose up through the cramped roofs of the Water Slums. By now, most of the KG transports had followed suit and left the area.

Realizing this was his chance, Jak gulped in a lung-full of air and forced his muscles back into action. Although he refused to allow his body to cease functioning, his body refused to be pushed into anything better than a lop-sided run. Now making only slow progress, Jak had to rely on his marksmanship if he was going to make it out of the Baron's trap. His survival instincts kicking in, Jak fought like a demon. Time no longer existed as he shot his way through dozens of armed soldiers. Using the vulcan fury mod, he mowed down so many guards he soon lost count. After advancing perhaps a third of the way out of the Water Slums, another squad of KG transports descended from the smoggy skies above and poured out a fresh round of enemies. Daxter yelled something, but Jak didn't hear it. His entire being was focused on escaping intact. The world was a muffled cacophony of guns banging, guards yelling, and water splashing. He hardly noticed when a third wave of KG transports showed up. He just kept killing, not realizing his own throat was growing hoarse from letting loose primal battle cries. When Jak stepped onto pavement an eternity later, the change of scenery was a shock to his system. He nearly plugged some on looking civilians before it sunk in that the remaining guards were behind him. With nary a thought, Jak's legs kicked into high gear and ran down the street and around the corner. He leapt up and, knocking the owner out of the driver's seat, hijacked a fast zoomer and sped like a madman back to HQ.

* * *

"…another two safe houses rooted out, six new recruits dead in a sting operation, and five turned in by followers of the Baron. KG patrols have doubled, and any mention of Mar's Tomb results in interrogation and imprisonment." Torn ruffled the sheaf of papers grasped in his large hands, his face grim.

Samos heaved a heavy sigh. The ex-KG commander's weekly reports were appearing more hopeless as time went by. The Underground was on the verge of floundering, and for what? An ancient stone that, in the Baron's hands, would destroy them all anyway.

The Shadow glanced around his small office, not really seeing anything his eyes fell upon. Memories of the beginning floated to the surface of his tired mind. Back then, the Underground was larger. As a newer organization, it had undergone fewer trials and therefore suffered fewer failures, garnering a reputation as a solid investment. The citizens of Haven City had a new vessel to pour their outrage into, and the relief of throwing off the old despair gave fresh hope. Yet as time went by the Underground did not triumph time and time again but merely scraped by. And so the roster steadily shrank until a scant fifty members were left.

But then Jak showed up. "If there isn't a change soon, our little resistance effort will disintegrate and disappear."

Torn bowed his head slightly, fully aware of the dangerous situation they were in.

Samos looked back up at Torn, folding his hands on his small desk. He asked, his voice thick with concern, "Is there any good news to report."

"Some," the tall elf replied, "We have three new recruits this week, two of which show some real potential, and we have successfully averted the attack on the South Town safe house, destroyed the metal head infestation in Haven Forest, and acquired the first two seal pieces."

The Shadow's drooping green ears perked up, interested. "The first _two _seal pieces?" Samos had already heard about most of what Torn had to report in real time. Torn merely gave the official version each week. But this was something the Shadow had not heard yet.

"Brutter gave Jak the coordinates of the second piece. It was located in the east end of the Water Slums, likely planted as bait."

"Bait you say?" Samos asked, raising a dark green eyebrow.

"Apparently, Jak was ambushed by anywhere from sixty to one hundred krimzon guards."

The older elf's eyes widened. "How many guards?" Samos' jaw remained slack, his grin lips slightly parted in astonishment.

"Based on the approximate number of transports, I'd say about two platoons—up to one hundred soldiers."

Samos stared at his significantly taller tactician. "And Jak's condition?"

Torn nodded. "Aside from exhaustion he seems in top shape."

"Such skill…" Samos murmured, "It seems the Baron underestimated the boy if he was expecting a successful ambush."

The old man was quiet for a moment, his brow knitted together in thought. "Is there anyone else among our recruits capable of escaping such a situation?"

Torn's lower lip pushed up on the left, transforming his cool expression into one of disdain. Even though he knew it was a useless endeavor, he mentally ran over his personal list of the Underground's most accomplished members. He quietly responded, "Based on my observation, no." He loathed acknowledging Jak's skills.

The Shadow nodded, his look still one of concentration. "Do we have any idea what happened to him in the Baron's fortress?"

Torn shook his head. "The Baron had many top secret 'projects' that I was never aware of or had the clearance to learn about. I asked Ashelin to look into it. The most promising lead she found is the 'Dark Warrior Program,' but even she doesn't have the authorization to learn anything useful."

Samos opened up one of the many folders scattered on his desk. After rifling through it, he pulled out a crinkled piece of paper; it was Jak's wanted poster… at least according to Kor it was. An ice cold shiver always traveled down Samos' spine when he looked at the blood spattered beast in the photo. He briefly read over the information for the dozenth time as though it would provide any answers.

_Prisoner: _5_1007_

_Offenses: Breaking out of prison, resisting arrest, assault, treason, seditious conduct, advocating rebellion, 38 counts of murder._

Samos glanced at the photo again, quite sure that the body count at the bottom of the page had tripled by now. He said, "If only someone in addition Kor had seen this…_thing_ in action, we might be able to learn something of value." Samos placed the wanted poster back in the folder and tossed it onto his desk. He sighed and looked back up at Torn. "Why don't we just ask Jak about it?"

"That wouldn't do any good," Torn replied, "When I debriefed Keira about the Haven Forest mission, she mentioned that it ended in an argument where she asked him about what happened during his incarceration. He refused to tell her anything."

"And?" Samos prompted.

Torn frowned slightly. "And that's it."

Samos stared at his tactician, incredulous. "That's all she told you about the argument?" Torn nodded. "Well why didn't you grill her for more details? What would've started such an altercation? _That_ might've been useful information!"

"I had to grill her just to get that little tidbit." Torn's gravelly voice sounded impatient. "She might have gotten away with never telling me if she and Jak had complied with protocol and come in to report as soon as their mission was done. She was extremely reluctant to talk about it, probably because she knew him before any of this happened."

As he spoke Torn's voice softened, revealing a deep affection and concern for the girl. Samos suppressed a smile, unsurprised. In most cases Torn genuinely cared for the welfare of those under his wing, a sign of a good leader. As such, the ex-KG commander had a talent for inspiring loyalty. The majority of the Underground recruits respected and trusted him. Jak once again proved the exception to the rule.

Samos had never seen Jak and Keira at the same time, yet there was something about the two of them. He knew Keira wasn't a native of Haven City, and he had a feeling Jak wasn't either. They had evidently grown up together. While both of them had always been hardened fighters for the length of their acquaintance, Samos was certain that they were quite the opposite before. There was a certain spark in their eyes, as of raw pain and innocence lost, very much unlike the dullness in the gazes of the oppressed. Jak and Keira seemed to have had everything they held dear taken away in recent years. It gave the old man an odd sense of déjà vu, as though he had seen the pair lose everything before or would again in the future. But then he would shake the feeling off, saying to himself that he was getting old, that he had seen hundreds of people in similar situations.

Torn's comm. unit buzzed to life and floated into view. The connection crackled, and then a husky woman's voice spoke.

"Torn. Ashelin here."

Samos' eyes darted to the tactician's face fast enough to see his heart jump into his throat, forcing him to swallow before responding, "What is it." His normally rough voice revealed a softer edge, betraying his feelings further. Samos grinned under his thick mustache as the comm. unit made lazy circles around Torn's head.

Ashelin quickly said, her tone hushed, "I caught wind of some disturbing information. Some sycophant of a lieutenant learned the location of Underground HQ. He thinks the Baron doesn't already know, and he must be hoping to score a juicy promotion because you've got fifty krimzon guards headed your way."

Samos' smile faded, his skin blanching to a paler green. Torn's icy blue eyes widened. "How long have we got?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Maybe five minutes."

Torn paused, the racing calculations of his mind written all over his tattooed face. "Thanks for the heads up. Over and out."

The comm. unit crackled again and flew back into its home pocket. Torn slowly said, "It's a light night. There are no more than ten people in HQ."

The pair stared at each other for a moment as the weight of their predicament sank in.

The Shadow stood up and, his voice commanding, said in a loud, clear voice, "Wake everyone up. We'll assemble in the outer sanctum. Radio any nearby operatives that may be able to snipe off some of the guards. Get someone up in the bird's nest stat!"

Torn nodded and left the small office, already yelling a wake up call.

Samos closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and briskly strode toward the door.

* * *

Jak's mood went south as soon as he woke up to Torn's voice barking out of his comm. unit to get his blonde ass downstairs. His mood failed to improve upon entering HQ's initial room, crowded close to maximum capacity with a mere fourteen people in it. He really started feeling sour when not thirty seconds later a pair of light feet padded down the entry steps and Keira entered the already crowded room. He took consolation in that she looked as confused at finding the small room full of bodies as he felt.

Daxter yawned, rubbing his eye with a small fist. "What the hell is going on around here?"

"You got me." Jak said, as he watched Keira spot Tess and walk over to ask the same question Daxter did.

"All right everyone, listen up!" Torn's voice grated over the group, rendering the room silent.

The Shadow stepped around the map table, his voice barking, "There's no time for some big speech, so I'll come right out with it. We've got a full platoon of krimzon guards coming for our asses and fifteen people to deal with it. Rage, Tess; I want you up in the bird's nest. Kreg, Lil, Luke, Tiv; take the outer sanctum and catch them coming down the stairs. Everyone else, head to the training facility. Any guards that break through the outer sanctum will have to contend with the hallway, so we have a bottleneck to take advantage of. You have three and a half minutes. Get armed and get to your positions _now!_"

The room exploded into activity and talk. Everyone filed inside the hidden door, paid a visit to the armory, and then scattered to their various positions around HQ.

Keira couldn't help but feel how lousy her timing was. She planned to pay a quick visit to HQ to pick up some new weapon mods from Tess and give Torn an official briefing of her progress with Errol—which was sadly very little. She was able to get any information she wanted except for the meat of the matter, the point of wrangling with him in the first place: Mar's Tomb. Errol had learned too well how to hold on to his tongue around a pretty face.

And now she had the current situation to add to her list of setbacks for the week.

"I can't believe this is happening." She said in a low voice to Gabe, "Why now, when we're completely unprepared?" She glanced around the training facility. There were nine present, including herself. Even the Shadow was armed and ready to fight alongside them.

The weathered warrior sitting to her right chuckled, his white bandages flashing in the low light. "You kidding? This is the way it always works for the good guys." Despite his crinkly grin, Keira couldn't mask her concern for Gabe. He had been with the Underground since the beginning and was venerated among all its members as one of the top dogs. But recent events were not so kind on the older elf. He had been enjoying a nightcap at a bar when the KG bust in and decided to terrorize the patrons. Gabe's innate sense of justice gave him the only option of standing up to the guards, but before he could say so much as a word one of the guards stunned him into stupefied submission with a taser rifle. A good five minute four against one beating later, he was lying half dead in the alley.

That was six days ago. Keira was shocked to see the man up and out of the infirmary. He could barely move by himself and he was practically mummified in bandages. "You shouldn't be fighting, Gabe. Why are you even up?"

The older elf chuckled again. "Duty calls, girly. I refuse to go down without a fight." He shifted the gun in his arms in an effort to situate his cast more comfortably.

Keira's eyes turned down to the floor, glum.

"You know," he said, "Just because the bad guys get the upper hand, it doesn't necessarily mean we'll bite the bullet."

"Why's that?"

"Easy," his soft voice sounded cheerful, "It all depends on whether we're in a comedy or a tragedy."

Jak studied Keira's bemused expression, wondering what she and Gabe were talking about. He sat on the opposite wall of the trailing facility with Daxter, waiting just like everyone else. Despite himself, watching Keira was the most entertaining thing he could think to do in the whisper filled silence. Daxter was taking the opportunity to snore with impressive force.

Jak blinked when a shadow fell over his face and looked up, irritated, at a boy's face he didn't recognize.

"Jak, right?" Said elf raised a green brow and slowly nodded. The boy, no older than seventeen, sat down next to him with plucky ease and extended a gloved hand. "My name's Nic."

Jak, disarmed by having such an ordinary courtesy extended to him, took the boy's enthusiastic hand in a shake.

"Uh…" Jak's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what passed for small talk, "I don't think I've seen you around before." He felt like an idiot.

"That's because I'm new." Nic replied, his voice jubilant despite his hushed tone. Jak found the boy's mood irksome.

"Well, Nic," the name felt odd on his tongue, "You seem pretty happy for an inexperienced fighter in a grim situation."

Nic's smile faltered slightly. "I guess I'm trying not to think too much about it since it scares me shitless."

"Mmnh—s'my horsey!" Daxter mumbled as he rolled over and off Jak's shoulder pad and into Nic's lap. He blinked, confused and sleepy.

Nic stared down at the orange furball, startled. "What's that, and why does it talk?"

"That's Daxter, and I have no idea why he talks."

"Hey!" the ottsel sat halfway up on Nic's lap, stabbing an indignant finger in Jak's direction, "I had to do enough talking for the both of us for seventeen years, so kiss my pantsless ass!" His words were slurred with sleep and far from intimidating.

Nic glanced at Jak, his expression pained. "Sounds like him talking for one person is more than enough."

Daxter made a face and Jak grinned. He was beginning to like this Nic.

"So," Jak prompted, "how did you know my name?"

Nic gave Jak an incredulous look, "How couldn't I? You're famous!"

"I am?"

"Yeah," Nic was obviously surprised Jak didn't know, "Everyone in the Underground knows your name, and most of the East Siders know your face. You can get in and out of the palace alive. You race like a demon. You're strong and fast, and you can take on a hundred KG at once. You're like the ultimate freedom fighter!" His voice grew more vehement as he spoke, and a number of heads turned their way.

Jak stared at Nic, dumbfounded. The ultimate freedom fighter? He glanced at Daxter, eyes wide. The ottsel provided, "He's saying you're a hero."

…_A hero? _But Jak was no hero. Like hell he was. None of his "amazing deeds" were done for the benefit of others. He killed in cold blood. He was consumed by his own hate. He lived only for revenge.

He looked back at Nic and was taken aback by the admiration shining out the younger elf's face.

Suddenly all whispering ceased. A muffled shot reverberated through the walls. Then another, and another. Tess and Rage were sniping off soldiers.

The KG had arrived.

The room was dead quiet as everyone waited. Jak glanced at Nic. The boy's expression was nervous, fearful. Out of a sudden feeling of brotherly protectiveness, Jak reached over and placed a large and comforting hand on Nic's shoulder. He smiled appreciatively.

Thudding footsteps indicated that the KG had entered the outer sanctum. A string of shots sounded and then ceased. All four of the members outside were evidently dead.

Jak pictured the scene of bedlam which he could only hear; guards pouring into the small and shabby room, stepping over the still warm bodies, some ransacking, others climbing up the ladder, and more searching for any hidden doors.

Several minutes passed and more shots rang out above. With any luck it was a soldier on the receiving end and not Tess or Rage.

The sound of a buzz saw split the air. Somehow, the guards had located the door.

"Prepare yourselves." Samos' voiced grated out from beneath the shriek of the saw as it met with plaster encased metal of the sliding wall. Everyone stood up and lifted their weapons into a ready position.

The sawing continued for what seemed like years and abruptly stopped. The destroyed wall crashed to the ground, and plated boots rapidly clanked as they charged over.

Jak tensed and launched himself towards the hallway. Two others followed suit. He strafed in front of the opening and fired, aiming for as many skulls as he could see, and the others fired as well. Then several bullets flew out of the hallway and into the leg of one of the chargers. He crumpled to his knees, and a finishing shot to the head sent him the rest of the way down.

Jak frowned. He had only heard one shot, but multiple bullets rocketed out of the hallway. Quickly turning, Jak strafed back and fired again. And this time he saw a guard lift a glowing shield into place, causing the bullet to ricochet back towards Jak. He ducked and fired again, but he netted the same result and was forced to jump out of the way. And then the guards entered the training facility.

Jak stared as they poured in. Twenty entered with more coming, like the entire platoon was safe and whole. All carried the strange shields, which glowed yellow with eco.

The next ten seconds passed both remarkably fast and incredibly slow. Jak was hypersensitive, able to see every detail. The guards fired on the few members present. Most dodged, returned fire, and then jumped out of the way of their own bullets. One member went down, then another. Keira rolled, managing to get a shot in where no one held a shield. The Shadow did the same. Two guards fell to the ground. Torn took a bullet in the shoulder. Nic charged and then flopped backwards like a doll, a hole ripped through his forehead.

Jak stared down at the new recruit's lifeless body as chaos raged around him. An expression of wide-eyed terror was forever frozen on his face, blood oozing down to puddle on the floor.

And then all Jak could see turned red.

It was only a matter of seconds before everyone became violently aware of the demon in the room. The KG turned all their firepower on the beast, and the five Underground members still alive looked on in amazed horror.

Torn and Samos could hardly believe that they were seeing the monster from the wanted poster. Keira could hardly believe that Jak was the monster. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't look away. She watched as the pale-skinned demon ripped through shield and armor and flesh with long black claws. He moved so fast his talons were tearing apart the next body before the spurting blood from the previous one could splatter the ground. Dark eco crackled through the air like lightning, and he snarled ecstatically, a bone-chilling sound—he was enjoying it.

Moments later, the fiftieth body hit the ground with a sickening thud. The monster smiled, a violet ray traveling through his white hair and around a black horn. He was drenched in red.

His pitch black eyes raked around the room, surveying the terrified rebels pressed up against its walls. They all trembled, and his dark gaze fixated on Gabe, leaning heavily against some stacked boxes. Hunched and coiled like a spring, he began ever so slowly to advance on the injured man. A bizarre gurgling sound bubbled from the monster's throat. He was laughing.

Keira broke through the paralyzing chains of fear rooting her to the spot and stepped in front of the older elf. The monster's smile curled ever higher up his blanched cheeks.

She took in a shaky breath and said in the strongest, clearest voice she could muster, "Stop it, Jak."

He paused at the sound of the name, his smile disappearing.

She continued, her voice louder, "Change back. You don't want to do this." He growled threateningly and resumed his advance.

Scampering up, Daxter scrambled onto his shoulder, yelling, "Stop, Jak! That's Keira!" He ignored the ottsel, continuing forward.

She couldn't look away from his eyes. They were bottomless, soulless. They sucked her in like a dark vortex. "This isn't you, Jak." He snarled at the name. "You wouldn't kill a defenseless person." He grew closer, and Torn yelled for her to get away.

Daxter grabbed a small fistful of hair. "You'd never forgive yourself, Jak! Don't kill Keira!" With a swift motion, he knocked the ottsel from his shoulder as Tess and Rage ran into the room and froze just as quickly.

Keira took a futile step back as he loomed over her, a wickedly clawed hand rising to strike. "Jak—" Her voice broke, and he once again paused at the name.

A pistol discharged and acrid smoke rose from a fresh hole in the floor at the monster's feet. Torn stood, gun at the ready, icy fury emanating from his pale eyes. The beast lunged at the ex-KG commander. Keira threw herself after him, screaming, "NO, JAK!!"

With lightning speed he whipped around, his arm slashing down, and then abruptly stopped.

Jak stared at Keira. Her large green eyes stared back, stunned. Her small hand gripped her right right arm as copious amounts of blood seeped from a large, deep, vicious laceration.

Jak then stared at his own hand, drenched in the same blood, his fingers still curled in a clawing strike.

Eyes swiveling, he saw the pile of red armored bodies lying in a sea of red that covered the entire training facility.

He stared again at Keira. He understood why she looked shocked and how her arm was injured.

Jak slowly turned and carefully picked his way among the mangled corpses, heading towards the hallway. He could feel all eyes follow his measured journey out of the training facility. But he didn't walk faster. He didn't look back.

It wasn't until Jak passed the four bodies of Kreg, Lil, Luke, and Tiv, climbed the ladder, and collapsed in a dank, dusty corner that he allowed himself a ragged gasp.

He convulsed, repulsed by the beast that both was and wasn't him. But it wasn't that he had revealed himself to his fellows, swatted Daxter like a fly, or even injured Keira that disgusted him so. It was for the look of fear in her beautiful eyes that he would never forgive himself.

* * *

jak's really screwed the pooch now. stupid berserker. but even so, this is going to lead to some awesomely juicy drama in the next chapter or two. the next major bit is something i actually wrote way back when i first started writing this story because i always knew i wanted it to happen and i was just way too excited about it to wait two years to write it. it'll be amazing!

please review! i'm likely way too rusty after such a long hiatus, and i need good feedback!


	15. The Aftermath

there now. you only had to wait two months for this chapter, not nine. i'm not sure how worth the wait it is though. i'm really unhappy with the second half of this chapter, mainly because it's regurgitating well established territory in the game. i don't think i wrote it all that well, but i'm currently past the point of caring. i just want this chapter to be done. what really sucks is that's pretty much entirely what the next chapter will be. hopefully it won't be too painful...

seriously though, chapter seventeen is gonna be fuckin' amazing! i'm _so _excited to write it! it'll be fabulously juicy and entertaining, and so will chapter eighteen. so, hope that keeps you reading.

enjoy!

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**The Aftermath**

The late afternoon sun glistened off the scummy waters of the port, casting sinuous and intricate reflections on the partially visible underbellies of the innumerous cargo transports. The tough residents of the Industrial District were in especially foul moods thanks to the dear Baron's underlings. The KG patrolling the area were more bellicose than usual. They felt behooved to harass more citizens after suffering such staggering losses the previous day.

Daxter, sick of red-armored soldiers trying to play kick the rat, settled for traveling by gripping the tail flaps of passing zoomers. The breeze was refreshing even though it stank of pollution.

Preparing himself, Daxter leapt off his current ride and twisted so he landed on his feet. His momentum nearly forced his small knees to buckle, but he maintained balance and straightened into a triumphant pose. A couple of passersby curiously glanced at him, eyebrows raised. The attention reminded Daxter of belligerent guards, and with that thought in mind he scurried into the _Hip Hog Heaven Saloon_.

The bar appeared as seedy as ever, and copious clouds of smoke perpetually hovered at eye level. The only difference Daxter noticed was more metal head trophies hung on the walls and no tub of lard floated around. Tess looked his way and her luscious red lips parted in a glorious smile, causing the ottsel to shiver. A moment later, the patron at the bar seated nearest Tess looked his way as well.

Keira looked exceedingly weary. Dark circles cupped her large eyes, and her gaze had a strange feeling to it—and emptiness. Given the smoky heat in the _Hip Hog_, her patched jacket was casually draped over the bar allowing a clear view of a startlingly white bandage wrapped around her slim arm.

The previous evening flashed before his eyes before he could rope down the memories: the attack, Jak going berserk, the aftermath—corpses needed disposing of, the Underground wanted for extensive cleaning, and the injured required first aid. By the time Daxter located Jak in his musty corner and silently lay down next to him, it was well past midnight.

And with it all, the morning's encounter bubbled to the surface of his mind.

* * *

_Daxter ducked his head as Jak descended the last ladder so as to get a look at their superior. Torn stood at his usual location, turned towards them and leaning against what perspective now made the front of the map table. His expression, rather than irritated at the very sight of the duo, was emotionless, just like his gravelly voice over the comm. unit. Torn called them down early, his summons waking both elf and ottsel from sleep in the deserted corner of the second floor—or at least Daxter. He was quite sure Jak lay in the corner, fully awake, ever since collapsing in it the previous night._

_Jak stopped at the bottom of the ladder and turned to lean against its ancient rungs. The bags under his eyes were pronounced and his countenance was expectant, waiting for the interrogation to come. Daxter hoped the inevitable confrontation wouldn't end in flying fists._

_Torn matter-of-factly started, "There's no graceful way to do this, so let's dive right in. What happened to you in the Fortress?"_

_Jak stared at the ex-KG commander, his rage and hate rekindled by anyone daring to ask about his ordeal._

_Torn was expecting this. "We've known since the beginning that you can…transform. Kor told us because he sent you to the Underground, and we've had this," he held up the crinkled wanted poster, "ever since it hit the streets. Thanks to last night, we now know dark eco is involved."_

_Jak's glare was steady as his trigger finger. "Well there you go. You've figured out the whole story on your own. Bravo."_

"_Not the whole story." Torn still looked calm. No trace of anger at Jak's disrespect showed. Daxter was genuinely impressed. Jak's mouth remained set in a firm, silent line._

"_Listen, Jak," Torn began, "we can't afford to take someone under our wing who has powers that blind him to friend and foe… but if you tell us what caused them we might be able to help you."_

"_I don't _need _anyone's help!" Jak growled menacingly._

_Torn ignored the interjection and continued, "You may have saved all our lives last night, but you also injured a fellow fighter. I'll be forced to terminate your service to the Undergound if you don't help me figure out how to deal with your other form."_

_Jak sharply retorted, "You never asked questions before, so I don't see why I should be answering any this late in the game."_

_Torn shot back, "You nearly permanently crippled one of our top recruits. You might have killed one of us if you hadn't changed back."_

"_No way, dred man!" Daxter rushed in, " Jak was gunning for me when I busted him out but he stopped and changed back when he realized what he was doin'!"_

_Torn's pale eyes turned to Daxter. "Obviously, he realized a little too late last night."_

"_I was arrested," all eyes turned to Jak, "two years ago, right after I arrived in the city. I don't know why." The blonde elf was perfectly still, his tone and expression even. Only his eyes betrayed the suffocating guilt he felt. "Eventually the injections began. They pumped me so full of dark eco I bleed it, and they kept talking about the Dark Warrior Program. Errol was heading it. Whatever they were hoping for wasn't happening, and they were going to get rid of me when Daxter showed up. That's the first time I transformed. Then we broke out, I met Kor, and the rest is history."_

_Torn sighed and raised a weathered hand to rub his forehead. "How often did the… injections happen."_

"_By the end of it, every day. I'm not sure for how long."_

_Torn allowed the appalling statement to sink in before asking, "And what sets off the transformations."_

_Jak didn't move a muscle. "When I've absorbed a lot of dark eco and get… angry."_

_The three were silent for a few moments, all of them shocked and wondering that Jak chose to share his story, however briefly and undetailed._

_Torn straightened up and turned to shuffle a stack of papers on the map table. "I'll report to the Shadow later on. In the meantime, you've got a mission to take care of." And just like that the spell was broken and all three assumed their usual demeanors. Daxter couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. He always found emotional talks uncomfortable._

* * *

Daxter waved and yelled, "Yo, Keira! What brings you to the _Hip Hog _today?" He crossed over to and jumped on the bar top as he spoke. "It's real dangerous out there today, ya know. All the KG are reeeal hot and bothered. You shoulda called for a dashing escort." He puffed out his yellow chest.

Keira rolled her eyes but kept a friendly grin on her face. "Thanks for that, Dax. I'll keep that in mind despite being perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Daxter tried not to look at the white bandage on her arm as he grinned back. He turned to Tess and said, "Hey, doll face. How about a little liquid refreshment for Orange Lightning?"

Tess reached over and scratched under the ottsel's chin, cooing, "Anything for my little Daxie-waxie!" She set about getting a drink and Keira rolled her eyes in earnest.

"So…" Keira prompted, getting Daxter's attention, "how's Jak?"

He stared at her, agape, before responding, "Forget about Jak—how are you?"

Kiera glanced at her right arm, cradled in a sling, and fingered the bandage. The laceration extended from just below her shoulder nearly all the way down to her elbow. Just as much muscle was cut through, rendering her arm completely useless for at least a week. Working in the garage would be practically impossible. As for how she felt about last night… "I've got twenty-six stitches." She evasively offered.

Daxter narrowed his eyes, unfooled.

"…It'll heal." She added.

Daxter looked at her a moment longer, debating whether or not it was wise to beat her feelings out of her. He settled for turning to examine a trophy as he absently said, "Tattooed Wonder sent Jak on some 'kaboom' mission. Something to do with blowing up a bunch of Hellcat cruisers."

Keira's eyes bore into the side of Daxter's skull, but he remained stubbornly silent.

She said, "Jak bleeding dark eco is connected with the berserker." It wasn't so much a question as a statement, and that made Daxter look her in the eye again. She took the opportunity to ask, "What happened to him?"

Tess set down a tankard next to the ottsel as the standoff continued. Having listened while she retrieved the drink, the blonde looked back and forth between the two, wondering who would win. Daxter considered for a long time before answering, "You'll have to ask Jak." Frustrated as he was with Jak and Keira and much as he wanted to tell her everything, Daxter had no right to betray his friend's confidence. Not for something this important.

"You saw how that worked out last time." Keira's green eyes softened, pleading for helpful information.

"Yeah, well, I can't tell you what's going on."

A cloud of despair momentarily settled over Keira before she assumed a mask of careful indifference. "There's no way around the last two years, is there?" Her voice was level and calm, "Jak's through with me, isn't he?" Again, nothing she said was really a question.

Daxter wanted to tell her about everything all the more, but at least he didn't feel the need for silence when it came to Jak's feelings. "Nah, he's not through with you. Far from it actually."

Keira stared at Daxter, brow crinkled in confusion as a plethora of emotions roiled around in her large eyes. He was opening his furry mouth to continue when Sig came up and slapped both him and Keira on the back, knocking the ottsel over and nearly causing the aqua-haired elf to fall out of her chair.

Sig laughed and boomed, "I just _love_ it when the Baron gets pissed! Some serious head-rollin's happening at the Palace today, chili peppers!"

Daxter picked himself up off the bar top and whirled on the enormous, armored man, yelling, "And I just _hate _it when big oafs forget how huge their own muscles are!" Sig's only response was to laugh some more. Daxter nursed his wounded pride by consuming half his beer at record speed.

Tess raised a golden eyebrow at the guffawing giant. "Five fully torqued Hellcat cruisers terrorizing the streets make you dance for joy?"

Sig responded, "Not as much as five fully torqued Hellcat cruisers getting blown to smithereens."

That got Tess to smile back. "I take it Jak's having no trouble then."

Sig nodded as he took a seat at the bar. "Losing three platoons in one day, getting fancy pants cruisers that cost a fortune destroyed—a double dose is just what the doctor ordered!"

Their animated conversation continued, but Keira wasn't listening. She couldn't stop thinking about the previous evening.

Seeing the monster from the poster in real life was far more terrifying than she ever could have imagined. The fact that the monster was in fact Jak boosted her terror to a surreal level. And he couldn't control it, or else he never would have hurt her—at least that's what she kept telling herself. She also felt anger so powerful she often felt tempted to punch a wall whenever one presented itself. Her heart seethed fury and hatred that something or someone could so warp her childhood friend and love. It was no wonder he became so defensive back in Haven Forest, that he would shut her out. He was ashamed—and angry and hurt and utterly lost. That's why he closed up as soon as she looked on him for the first time in two years with surprise. That's why he was an entirely different person. The only thing she could conclude is that it all boiled down to his stay in the Baron's prison. If reality lived up to talk, it was a nightmarish hellhole. It was a miracle that he hadn't lost his mind completely, much less that he successfully pulled off an escape.

And all of Keira's musings filled her with greater despair than she had ever felt. She had lost him. Part of her was certain it was true and that Daxter was wrong when he said Jak still cared for her. How could he ever surmount the terrible pain he obviously felt for mere puppy love? Another part of her, tremulous and small, stubbornly clung to hope because of the look on Jak's face when he reverted from his berserker form. She had seen that look before…

* * *

"_Guys, wait up!" She ran down the bridge in hot pursuit, but her entreaties fell on stubbornly deaf ears. The two boys darted behind the fisherman's hut and scrambled down to the dock where his boat floated and bobbed in the gentle waves. She followed and nearly fell down the plank steps, illuminated only by the light of the midnight stars. _

_She came up behind them as the shorter one said, "…fast asleep. He's snorin' like a baby!" The taller boy grinned in response._

_She asked, confused. "Who's snoring like a baby, Daxter?" _

_The short boy turned to look at her, his expression disdainful, and said, "The _fisherman_ of course." Jak settled for nervously shuffling his feet, as he always did when she was around._

_What they were planning suddenly made sense. "You're not gonna steal his boat again are you?" The girl sounded horrified that they would risk suffering the punishment of scaling and gutting fish eight hours a day for a whole week again. _

_Daxter just rolled his eyes. "Course we are! _We _are gonna catch a lurker shark." His tone of voice and emphasis on the word "we" suggested that girls were strictly persona non grata on their venture._

_She looked at the orange-haired boy, confused. "Why would you wanna do that?" _

"_Because, stupid, we're gonna be famous adventurers someday, and famous adventurers aren't scared of nothin'!" Jak shot Daxter a look which caused the shorter boy to groan in consternation and relent, "…but famous adventurers need behind-the-scenes help, so you can be our… behind-the-scenes person."_

_She beamed, overjoyed to be included, and climbed into the boat with the boys._

_Only with both Jak and Daxter manning the pull string were they able to start the engine, and after several attempts they were underway. Jak took the wheel and steered them offshore till Sandover Village was barely visible. They were in deep water now._

_She cut the engine, and Jak retrieved the strong fishing cord they had "borrowed" from a pile of supplies behind the fisherman's hut. Daxter pulled a pungent package from his red tunic and unwrapped a raw yakow steak. He speared it on the hook and Jak, grabbing some extra cord, threw the baited line as far out off the port side as he could, which wasn't all that far. The three then leaned against the rail and watched, waiting._

_Ten minutes went by with no activity beyond water lapping against the boat's pontoons. That gave Daxter enough time to think about what they were really trying to do, and he became very agitated and fidgety._

_Eventually, he said in a shaky voice, "Well, looks like nothin's happening. Let's call it a night, huh, Jak?"_

_Jak turned to look at her and rolled his eyes, as if to say Daxter was always like this when anything dangerous could happen. She giggled, and the mute smiled. Daxter said, "Ya know what? You two can ju—look at that!" _

_He pointed to a spot not ten feet away where a spiny dorsal fin slipped in and out view as it circled around the baited hook._

_She leaned forward, squinting her eyes into the darkness to get a better look. "Wow! A real lurker shark!"_

"_Yup, a real one." Daxter said quickly, his voice scared. "Now let's get outta here!"_

_Another fin glided into view, and both sharks circled the meat. Jak gave his friend an unsympathetic look. They had gotten this far, and the blonde boy clearly had no intention of turning tail and running. _

_There was powerful swooshing of water and then the line unwound an extra twenty feet and went taught. Pushing off the rail, she went and grabbed the line and pulled with all her might._

"_What're you doin', Keira?" Daxter yelled._

"_Catching a lurker shark, you dummy! Now help me pull him in!" She had to raise her voice above the din of splashing water. It seemed the second shark was fighting with the first one even though it had been hooked._

_Despite having made no progress thus far, the line started moving in. She looked over her shoulder to see Jak behind her, pulling as hard as he could. With a sound of exasperation, Daxter fell in behind Jak, and the three children, digging their sandaled feet into the deck, slowly but surely wrangled the lurker shark back towards the boat. _

_The other shark followed as the battle continued. The next thing she knew there was a suspicious darkening of the water, and the froth from their struggle turned violet crimson in the starlight. The metallic scent of blood seeped into the briny air. Then there was a mighty pull on the line, and Jak slipped forward and bumped her hard. Before she could even scream she was upside down in the water and a searing pain split her narrow thigh._

_The next few seconds passed in a slow blur. She surfaced in time to see the second shark's fin speeding toward her, and she knew she was scant seconds from a painful death. She heard a splash and felt small but strong hands grab under her arms and haul her onto the boat's port pontoon. She was pulled onto her feet and instinctively reached up, and with a grunt from her rescuer she was lifted high enough for another set of hands to grab hold of her left arm. Some splashing footsteps and metal clangs later, the first hands reached down and grabbed her right arm. The lurker shark, charging open-mouthed, collided with the metal and wood of the boat just as she was heaved on deck. In the same instant the line broke loose, and both sharks disappeared beneath the waves._

_She lay there eyes tightly shut and unmoving as she panted. She felt numb with shock and disoriented by the quick turning of events. It took awhile for her mind to even register the heat near her body. Forcing the wheels to turn, she gradually came to the conclusion that one of the boys jumped down to pull her out, climbed back into the boat by way of the large fan grate attached to the back, and then both pulled her up out of harm's way. Judging by the warmth she could feel, the boys collapsed on either side of her and hadn't budged._

_She forced her eyes to open and found herself face to face with Jak. He lay to her right and was still gripping her wrist. He was soaked, his gravity-defying hair drooping against the deck, indicating that he had jumped in to save her. He stared intently at her face, blue eyes wide with fear. He glanced down at her right leg, the pain of which she was only just beginning to notice. She remembered the pain when she first fell in and shifted slightly so she could look down. Her pants were torn and bloody, revealing bruised and cut flesh on her outer thigh. She must have collided with the pontoon on the way down._

_She looked back at Jak to find him staring at her again. He looked utterly horrified, and it took her a moment to realize it was with himself. His hand released her wrist and moved to grasp her hand instead. The action was apologetic, and he looked so guilty that he clearly felt responsible. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her._

_She smiled at him._

* * *

"Earth to Keira!"

"What?" She straightened up, snapping out of her reverie. Daxter stood on the bar top in front of her, swaying slightly.

"I shaid, do you wan yer drink?" He pointed unsteadily at the untouched Tess Special she clutched. He was clearly already drunk.

Keira exhaled unevenly in a silent laugh, and said, "Go right ahead, Dax." And she shoved the glass toward him. A strong feeling of camaraderie with the ottsel crept into her heart, and she couldn't help but grin. She shared so many experiences with this odd little creature. They knew each other in the way only childhood friends could, and she couldn't help but take comfort in that.

"You seem happy." Tess offered, and she looked extremely pleased that Keira was anything other than completely depressed. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh, just what it was like to be eight years old…" And she took comfort in that the look on Jak's face the previous evening was exactly like the one he gave her as a little boy all those years ago. She took comfort in that the boy from Sandover Village who she loved with all her heart might still exist somewhere inside the hardened and violent Underground soldier.

* * *

Shortly after finishing off the last Hellcat cruiser, Jak got a call from Pecker to meet at Onin's tent. Under normal circumstances, this would put him in a bad mood. He wasn't fond of the blind seer's talent for saying extremely unsettling and often nonsensical things. But the circumstances were not normal. At this point he was beginning to wonder if "normal" was a figment of people's imaginations. And so, for once he was honestly glad to be en route to the Bazaar. It provided a distraction from the definition that was slowly but surely replacing normal.

But first he had to retrieve his partner in crime, who he found in an impressively drunken state at the _Hip Hog_, making a serious attempt to impress Tess with tales of their past adventures told in slurred cadences. He ignored the strangely defensive look in Tess' eye and, grabbing the inebriated ottsel, left to catch an unsuspecting driver by surprise.

As they were entering the Bazaar, Daxter, draped upside down over his usual shoulder, caterwauled tunelessly, but he was just enough in pitch for Jak to recognize the melody.

"That's the song the old bird lady always sang isn't it?"

"Hayup," Daxter responded and then resumed humming, but he only got half a phrase further when his train of thought jumped the tracks and he said, "Boy, Keira's arm is meshed up. Twenty-shumthin' stitches… bitches… But she's crazy about you anyway, the mashocistic minx."

Jak's eyes widened and his fists tightened on the wheel as a wave of culpability crashed over him. He wasn't sure what to say in response to Daxter's loosened tongue, and opted for silence.

"Stop bein' shtupid!" Daxter spoke with unexpected force as he sat halfway up on Jak's shoulder, startling the elf, "Apologize! Kish! Make up!" He fell back to his limp position, and said, his voice softer, "She'll forgive ya."

Jak considered this. Despite the fact that he was certain Keira would never be his again, he had to wonder if something as simple as "I'm sorry" would help alleviate the guilt he felt. If she forgave him, maybe he wouldn't need to seek constant distractions from his own thoughts. Maybe he could learn to live with himself again.

Yet how could that really make a difference? Just like the first time he visited the Oracle, Jak remained somewhat conscious as his darker self took over. He was dimly aware of what he was doing as he stalked toward Keira, his prey. But before he could subdue the berserker, he hurt her. He was too weak to protect those he cared about most from himself. He would never be able to forgive himself, so what would her absolution matter?

Jak pulled up beside Onin's scraggly tent and walked in, resetting Daxter on his shoulder in an upright position.

He was greeted with Kor's back as the old man spoke to Onin and Pecker. "Expecting that little boy to save us is folly! At his age, he is no match for the metal head leader!" Kor stiffened and turned to see Jak and a dangerously swaying Daxter. Clearly, the duo was not supposed to hear such things. "Oh… Jak. We were just talking about Samos' plan."

Onin signed swiftly, and Pecker said to Kor, "Onin says your voice sounds very familiar. I'll bet you two golden oldies go way, _way _back, huh?" The old woman narrowed her milky eyes right at Kor, despite not being able to see him, and then continued gesturing. "Onin needs you to prove yourself, Jak. You've shown your brass and your brawn. Now you must use your brains as well. Frankly, I think she's pushing it, but I'm not the boss." The monkey-bird shrugged. "Beat this test, and the third piece to the Seal will be revealed."

Jak went to stand directly in front of the woman, apprehensive. No sooner had he done so then Onin placed her hands over a woven basket between her crossed legs. She abruptly threw her hands up in the air, sending showers of blue light floating lazily up before they fell to the ground.

In the middle of the light, Jak could dimly make out a glittering disc composed of hundreds of tiny pinpoints of light. His hand automatically shot out to grasp the disc, but when his fingers brushed the light object it disappeared. Onin's hands returned to the basket and threw up green and then more blue light, each color with its own disc. Jak, beginning to understand, touched first the green then the blue discs. Onin continued to throw up green, blue, red, and pink clouds of shimmering light in progressively faster and more complicated sequences. Jak rose to the challenge, managing to touch every single disc.

The challenge was getting so fast Jak wondered how much longer he could keep it up, yet the thought barely crossed his mind when Onin clapped her hands together and a golden glow emanated from behind the old seer. A flat, orange object the size of a plate drifted up and over Onin and Pecker and settled into a hover in the middle of the room. The glow suddenly radiated out from behind Jak, and the two seal pieces in his pack floated out and approached the third. A pure, ringing note gently filled the space and grew louder. The three parts rotated counterclockwise and slowly locked into place. The note became a harmonious chord as gold light emanated from the now whole seal.

"Behold! The Seal of Mar is now complete!" The seal floated to Jak's hands. It seemed weightless when he first grasped it, but the glow and the ringing dissipated and its weight returned. A smile crept onto Jak's face. It felt as though the harmony of the seal had flowed into his hands and through his body, and the world suddenly felt… right.

Onin signed and Pecker translated, "Onin says the three artifacts you've retrieved from the Mountain Temple—RRRAWRK—are relics from an ancient Light Tower. Old songs tell how this light tower once shined down on the actual site of Mar's Tomb! I sing one of these songs for you." He pretentiously cleared his throat and, hesitating for dramatic effect, screeched, "From the mists of time, Mar's light would shine—" Onin's mouth dropped open, Daxter pressed his ears to his skull, and Kor dropped his staff. All present cringed as the monkey-bird hit a gratingly sharp note.

Jak interjected, "Whoa there, iron lungs! Just tell us what we need to do."

Pecker angrily placed his wings on his feathered hips. "Cretins with no taste, huh?" He dryly spat in disgust. "You must take the three artifacts to Mar's Gate. Only then will the Light Tower rise and reveal the tomb."

"You must hurry, Jak." Kor said in his quavering old voice as he slowly bent to retrieve his staff. "The Baron is getting more anxious with each passing minute, and so the danger for the Underground increases."

Jak nodded and ducked out of the tent. Reaching over his shoulder, he grabbed the JET-board, threw it down where it hovered two feet above the ground, and jumped on.

He sped through the streets dodging pedestrians and krimzon guards and earning more than his fair share of curses along the way. Daxter often yelled an equally blue phrase back at the offender, and Jak grinned in response. He loved riding the JET-board. He always felt free on it, as though he could leave his responsibilities in the dust. Daxter, who was slowly sobering up, only made the ride more entertaining.

Before long they were riding into the North Garden. The green grass, always a shock to see, gleamed in the late afternoon sun, and dozens of corrals penning grazing yakows passed by in a blur. Jak leaped up and used the fences as jumping points for tricks or grinding bars. He was disappointed when they arrived at the entrance to the Mountain Temple.

Now impatient to get the job over with, Jak ran up the ramp and grudgingly waited for the slow metal doors to part and let him through. Once the second set of doors opened he darted out and smoothly leapt into the warp gate leading to the Mountain Temple. Around the corner the upside down platform floated across a yawning, black gap, forming a potentially lethal crossroads. Having been here enough times that it was now routine, Jak whipped out his blaster and shot the upside down platform without even waiting to jump. He was suspended over the black pit when the platform turned just in time for him to land safely on it. He quickly leapt off it, continuing straight towards the large, circular, orange metal structure that served as an elevator. The elevator groaned to life and lowered Jak into a long, narrow gorge.

He could only assume Mar's Gate was the door that had never opened in previous visits, so upon reaching the bottom he turned right. He stopped before the door, an enormous circle, and reached inside his pack to remove Mar's Seal. It immediately glowed brilliant gold and floated out of his hands up towards the center of the door. No sooner had it settled there than the spiraling panels of the door slid out into the edge of the circle and disappeared.

Jak crossed the threshold and traveled through a gorge even narrower than the first before it abruptly widened and revealed a large, open area lined in rocky cliff faces. Three mechanical structures were distributed about, one against the left wall, one against the right wall, and one nestled in a spring on the far side.

Jak reached into his pack and pulled out the three artifacts: the gear, the lens, and the crystal. He handed the gear to Daxter, and the pair nodded at each other. The ottsel leapt to the ground and ran towards the left structure as the elf dashed straight for the far one.

Daxter arrived at a control panel of sorts where a depression shaped just like the gear was carved. He placed the artifact into the panel, and the various parts around it began twisting and turning, generating power.

Jak bounded over stepping-stones and crossed the pond to a large platform, in the center of which rose what resembled an altar topped by a sizable metal ring supported in a u-clasp. Without even needing to think, he expertly tossed the lens into the ring. The entire structure began to rumble and the lens started to spin, and his booted feet barely landed back on the nearest stepping-stone before the platform began to rise, revealing itself to be a huge cylinder. It soon stopped rising, and concentric cylinders inside the outer one jutted out, higher and higher till the lens was held atop a dizzyingly tall tower.

Daxter gaped open-mouthed at the impressive structure as Jak ran back to the middle machine. He placed the crystal, which now also glowed, into a depression in a miniature alcove. The crystal was drawn into the machine with a high-pitched whir, and Jak looked up at the odd spire jutting from its top. There were four beams surrounding a center column topped in a focus needle, reminding Jak of the light towers in the Forbidden Jungle. The beams shifted as though being unlocked and parted from the top till they rested diagonally open, blooming like an alien flower. The center column rose up above the beams. The machine briefly ceased moving before rays of blue eco shot from the beams to the focus needle. The blue light was redirected to the lens on top of the tower and then angled back towards the city. The pair could distantly hear a crashing explosion. They glanced at one another and grinned in silent agreement. Daxter climbed up to his usual perch and Jak ran out of the canyon.

* * *

At the radio call of the Shadow, Jak commandeered a fast, sleek zoomer and sped for the Business District, just north of the Bazaar. He knew by a waiting pile of rubble that he had come to the right place.

The Light Tower had pierced and shattered an enormous statue of Baron Praxis in front of the palace. The decapitated head managed to tumble on the pedestal in just the right way to break open a secret entrance—the entrance to Mar's Tomb.

Jak hesitated before walking in. He found it odd that the burial ground of perhaps the most auspicious man in history ended up wreathed in stone wreckage. That, he felt, was _not _an auspicious sign, and with that thought in mind he crossed under the broken threshold.

Kor, Samos, the little boy, and Keira—to Jak's dismay—were all waiting and clearly affected by their surroundings. They gaped around what appeared to be an anteroom in wonder. It was box-like and simple, fashioned out of a warm colored stone. Opposite the entrance a carving of an Oracle watched over the small space, yet it was odd. Jak thought it more closely resembled the Precursor robot manned by Gol and Maia than the Oracle visages he was used to.

Samos and Kor muttered to one another in low voices as the kid looked around with wide eyes, the clasps of his pilot cap glinting in the low light. Keira, on the other hand, immediately looked Jak in the eye upon his entrance. A white bandage adorned her right arm. But to Jak's surprise, there was no fear in her eyes, nor hate, nor any negative emotion. She seemed remarkably calm, and this so surprised him that he blurted out, "What are you doing here?"

"I was with the Shadow when you activated the Light Tower. Given how hot the situation is, he wanted an extra gun along."

Her answer was simple and straightforward. There was no hidden meaning. Jak didn't know what to say or do and felt utterly foolish.

And so he asked, "Uh… how's your arm?"

Keira's stare never faltered. Instead a very subtle change came over her face, and a mysterious glint entered her eyes—like she was smiling without physically curving her delicate mouth.

"You did it, Jak!" Samos said, breaking the moment. "You actually found Mar's Tomb!" His voice had such a reverent tone that Daxter rolled his eyes, and Jak could have sworn that it was the Samos of Sandover that was speaking.

But that failed to sway his sudden anger as he recalled mention of the Tests of Manhood and of the little boy being the key. He placed his hands on the child's shoulders protectively. "Great. Now what? We send this poor kid into a meat grinder?" His fury rendered him oblivious as Keira turned slightly away, a true smile gracing her face. His evident attachment to the boy only betrayed him further.

Kor wasn't listening, and mumbled to himself, "This is the day I've long awaited! To finally hold the fabled Precursor Stone in my hands!" He held his free hand in front of face, the fingers greedily curled as though he could snatch the stone right then and there.

Samos stepped toward the boy, who stood trembling in front of Jak, and said, "You must be cautious, child. The tests of manhood are sure to be fraught with peril and Mar's heir must face them alone."

Daxter jumped off Jak's shoulder and turned to the boy. "It's okay, kid. You can do it. It's just a deep, pitch black, sure to be filled to the brim with painful death old tomb." As he spoke, his voice shrank smaller and smaller. He added, "I wouldn't go in there." The boy's lower lip quivered, and Jak wondered at Daxter's complete lack of tact.

The raspy voice of the Oracle boomed out without warning. "Welcome, Heir of Mar. Finally, the chosen one stands before me. Enter and prove yourself worthy to claim the ancient birthright." The section of wall beneath the Oracle began to grind up, slowly revealing the inner chamber. Without even thinking, Jak walked around the boy at a sleepwalker's pace. Something, some invisible force, drew him toward the tomb within. And then the Oracle yelled, "No!" Jak snapped out of his trance, and the door halted its ascent. "This child is too young to face the tests!" The wall reversed its motion and crept back to the stone floor.

Kor yelled, horrified, "What? No!"

Samos shouted, "Do something, Jak!"

That was all the encouragement Jak needed. He sprinted at the falling wall, Daxter trailing behind him. "Jak, remember the sure to be filled to the brim with painful death part??" With a moment's preparation, Jak launched himself forward and rolled under and in with barely two feet to spare. Daxter slid to a stop just before the wall and turned to run, wailing, "YAAAAAGH!" Jak reached back to grab the ottsel by the tail and pull him under just before the wall met back with the floor.

The remaining four looked at the now plain wall in astonishment. Samos said, "Great tree limbs! He's gone to face the tests!"

Keira had heard of the Tests of Manhood. She glanced at Samos, fearful, and Kor corrected in a solemn voice, "No, he's gone to his death."

"Freeze!"

* * *

and on to the tests of manhood! dun dun dunnnn! so yeah, i'm not looking forward to writing it. oh well.

please do review! i love, love, love feedback!


	16. Mar's Tomb

after months of dreading writing a chapter that's almost nothing but regurgitating the game, i finally got the drive to write this last weekend. hopefully, it still manages to be cool.

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Mar's Tomb**

"Phoo! What's that smell?" Daxter yammered from his sprawled position. Jak briefly held his breath as the new room's air graced his nostrils. It smelled rank with age as though decades of dust and mold were present. Wrinkling his nose, Jak rolled over and stood up. The stench failed completely to prepare him for what he saw, and he gaped in awed wonder.

He stood atop a balcony entrance crested by two large green flames burning in huge cauldrons. A steep and narrow stairway wound its way back and forth down to the bottom level of a mammoth chamber. Huge pools flooded the room, and a maze of ornate columns vaulted up to the faraway ceiling; it was a gigantic arcade, leading the way to what appeared to be enormous double doors set in the back wall. Everything appeared to be stone fashioned in the likeness of a Precursor temple, just like the anteroom. Torches flickered everywhere, casting jagged shadows that fractured the chamber into a netherworld of shifting darkness and light.

The pair drank it all in, silent until Daxter said, "So, I guess we gotta open those doors somehow."

Jak shrugged, causing Daxter to bob up and down on his shoulder. "I guess." He still felt humbled by such a magnificent sight, and he had no doubt that the grandeur of the tests would be equally foreboding.

"Well," he said, pulling out his morph gun, "let's rock and roll."

Jak descended the stairs, finding it difficult to move quickly when he was battling vertigo. The stairs spanned a yawning black chasm to reach the pools, and he couldn't help but wonder what the obsession was with Precursor architecture and bottomless pits. Breathing a sigh of relief as he stepped off the last stair, Jak walked into the pool. The murky water stank and undoubtedly contributed to the tomb's general malodor. Up to his mid-thighs, Jak trudged forward, nearly slipping on the scummy accumulation sticking to the pool floor.

About halfway down the arcade two raised sections of floor loomed out of the water. Anxious to get out of the water, Jak doubled his speed and made for the right platform. He was so intent on moving quickly without falling that he nearly failed to notice an odd movement in the water. Turning just in time, Jak shot a white amphibious creature as it broke the surface. Letting out a strangled croak, the creature sank to the bottom of the shallow pool.

Jak gratefully jumped up to dry ground and shook his boots in turn, hoping to dislodge some of the water they soaked up. He turned and ventured further away from the pool until he reached the wall. Between another two cauldrons bursting with green flame, a large door groaned to life and parted, revealing another dimly lit room. Suddenly feeling as though the tomb had eyes, Jak cautiously walked through. The path sloped brokenly up in series of ledges as tall as Jak to a dark archway on the far side. Briefly holstering his weapon, Jak scaled the ledges and ran to the arch as quickly as possible. Once again his speed and anxiety made him careless, and he barely jumped in time to cross a deep pit just inside the arch.

Daxter gripped Jak's shoulder pad tightly. "Be careful would ya? Look before you leap!"

"I know!" Jak snapped back. He ran towards another door, this one much smaller, and just like before it opened as though he was expected. Shaking off a wave of paranoia, he entered a large, square room with a door in each wall and a floor switch in the center.

He almost jumped out of his skin when the gravelly voice of the Oracle spoke without warning, "Weapons are for the weak." Refusing to hesitate, Jak stepped forcefully on the switch. Just as suddenly, a dozen or more enormous beetles fell from the distant ceiling. They all landed on their backs, and their violet gray undersides glistened as they struggled in the torchlight. With a perfunctory sweep around the room, Jak noticed that three of the beetles had red bellies. Too experienced to think it a coincidence, he ran to the nearest red-bellied beetle as they all started flipping themselves upright. He kicked it, and the enormous bug, unhurt, lazily flew over to the door opposite where he entered. He did the same with the other two, and no sooner had the third one landed on the door than all three beetles disappeared in a burst of red light and the door opened. The rest of the beetles flew back up to the ceiling.

The next room was long and narrow. A deep pool filled a good portion of the room, and blue veins of electricity writhed over its surface from multiple conductors set in the wall. An intricate grate divided the room in half, and Jak realized he would have to swim under the gate to proceed. He was wondering if there was another switch hidden somewhere when the current suddenly ceased. Without pausing to think he dove into the water, not even giving Daxter enough time to protest. Jak swam under the gate and was about to resurface when the electricity returned. He held his breath, waiting, but his lungs already burned for oxygen. Only by sheer willpower was he able to keep from surfacing before the electricity stopped again. Gulping in air, he speedily climbed out of the pool.

He was met with a hiss as a spider even larger than the beetles crawled towards him. He blasted the arachnid off the ledge he found himself standing on. It wrapped around one wall of yet another huge room, this one lined in gigantic statues, and Jak couldn't help but wonder just how large Mar's Tomb was.

Briefly scuffling with another spider, Jak passed under an archway into another electrified pool room. As soon as the current stopped he dove in and made his way to the opposite end.

Daxter shook himself out on the other side. "Too much stupid water!" He pulled off a small glove with disgust and shook it out. Jak ignored his own wet clothes and ran onto a ledge rising out of a pit. Another platform rose out of the emptiness and, spotting a floor switch a few feet away, Jak activated what appeared to be some sort of puzzle. Red, yellow, green, and blue square tiles flew up from the black and lined themselves up in a perfect path to the platform. Almost immediately a red tile lit up three times as a matching tone sounded and echoed around the chamber. Taking the signal without question, Jak jumped onto the tile. As soon as his boots hit the colorful stone, a green tile several feet away blinked, then a yellow one, and then Jak landed safely on the next platform. All the tiles fell back into the darkness, and a switch revealed itself in the center of the platform. Taking a couple deep breaths as he reassured himself that his was easy, very similar to the tile puzzle in Gol and Maia's Citadel, Jak stepped on the switch and worked his way to the left wall. A door opened in the wall as soon as he stepped on the last tile, and he leapt over into a dark hallway.

Several more of the large spiders littered his path, and once Jak reached the end of the hallway he had to make a left and cross more electrified water. This stretch was the longest one yet and, needing to traverse the obstacle quickly, he pulled out his JET-board and leapt down as soon as the electricity stopped. The other side lurched toward Jak with smooth speed, making him confident he could beat the electric currents. He was barely five feet away from the end when they resumed with a crackle.

His JET-board made an ominous popping sound and, turning itself off as a safety measure, sank, allowing the current to crawl up Jak's body. He quivered with the electricity and continued to even once it stopped and he fell into the water. Just like when he was ambushed by the KG in the Water Slums, Jak forced his stubbornly tight muscles into motion. He grabbed the JET-board and, swimming the rest of the way, pulled himself up just as the electricity hissed back to life.

Jak collapsed on the cold stone, allowing himself a moment's weakness to recover. It took him a moment to realize Daxter still sat on his shoulder despite their horizontal position. Laboriously turning his head, he saw the ottsel's paws gripping the metal rim of shoulder pad in a death grip as each orange hair stood straight up. Jak realized that Daxter must have been fried too, and he reached up to dislodge each little finger from the shoulder pad. His hands freed, Daxter too collapsed with a little grunt, and his extremely taut little muscles relaxed.

"You ok, Dax?" Jak's throat was surprisingly dry, making his voice a harsh whisper.

The ottsel raised a gloved hand and allowed it to fall back as he mumbled something unintelligible.

A minute or so later, the duo stood on slightly shaky legs and advanced forward. They found themselves entering in the beetle room from the left door, and after going through the same routine as before they opened the door in the right wall.

After traversing a fourth electrified pool without difficulty, Jak entered a second tile puzzle room. This time there were two platforms in addition to the initial ledge, and he had to first reach the left and then the right switches before he made it to the door on the opposite side. Another electrified pool and spider infested hallway later, Jak found himself in a large square room like the beetle one. However, instead of beetles, there were odd, coffin-shaped statues rising stiffly out of the floor. Unsure of what to do, he walked in a weaving pattern amongst the statues, examining them closely.

Now thoroughly recovered from his previous electrocution, Daxter jumped off his perch and sauntered up to a statue. The structure doubled the ottsel in size and featured a number of Precursor-like patterns in relief, much like the rest of the tomb. He raised a brow, unimpressed.

"What the heck kinda puzzle is this?" he asked, pointing an accusing finger at the statue, "I'm getting really sick of all this tomb crap! Nothing but a bunch of moldy mechanisms of death!" Daxter turned to walk back to Jak but was surprised to find the elf right behind him. Jak, who was examining a statue as he walked past, didn't see the ottsel move and tripped over his little, orange body. Caught completely unawares, he crashed into the nearest statue. But rather than injure himself on the hard stone, the statue gave a little and somewhat cushioned his fall. As the statue wobbled back and forth, a short, descending melody drifted out of thin air.

Jak, sprawled on the floor, frowned for a moment before pushing up to a sitting position. He stood and, pulling out his morph gun, lunged at the nearest statue. He smacked it with the butt of his gun, and just like the previous one it quivered and a melody sounded. However, the melody was different this time. Jak proceeded running around the room, hitting each statue in a blur till he recognized one of the melodies as the first he heard. Comprehension dawned, and he raced back to the first statue. Once he hit it both statues sank down and disappeared in the floor.

Slowly but surely, Jak found each matching pair. When all the statues were gone, a tall set of double doors creaked open and revealed a hallway with a green glow at the end. He ran out onto a balcony marked in the green flame cauldrons, and once he saw the narrow staircase he realized he was back in the main chamber. A switch lay embedded in the center of the balcony. Jak promptly stepped on the raised stone.

Nothing happened. Jak and Daxter exchanged confused looks. They waited a little longer, and still nothing happened. Daxter was preparing to curse in frustration when all the torches simultaneously extinguished, plunging the chamber into darkness. Only the green flames still burned, casting an eerie glow. Then, out of the mouth of one of two statues on either side of the entrance, a concentrated beam of blue eco lanced down the enormous arcade in seconds, pointing directly at the center of the huge, unopened doors.

"So the way to open the doors is to activate these blue eco beams…" Jak said, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

Daxter looked horrified. "You mean we have to go through all that _again_ just to reach the next switch?"

Jak leapt onto a floating platform just off the balcony. "They are called the _Tests_ of Manhood." They were swiftly flown down to the large pools below, and Jak moved as quickly as he could through the scummy water to the left raised section of floor where another door undoubtedly waited. Unfortunately, he had to move even slower now that the torches were doused.

After dealing with two of the strange, white amphibians, Jak climbed up on the ledge and ran through the next door. He entered another spider-infested hallway, and he angrily took care of the hissing menaces.

He was beginning to think this test would have all the same obstacles as the previous one when the hallway abruptly opened into a huge, tall chamber with roiling dark eco for a floor. Looking up, Jak saw a number of broken ledges and poles, some moving, winding up and around the room, but the only way he could get to them was to jump across four spike-topped pillars. Much like the electrified pools, the spikes occasionally disappeared, and with careful timing Jak crossed to the first ledge unscathed.

In a slow ascent like the one of the tower in Dead Town, Jak spun around poles and leapt onto ledges that would recede into the wall and force him into a deadly fall if he moved too slow. At one point he hit a switch, causing the four spiked pillars to move up and allow him to keep going. Eventually, he reached the top where another switch waited. This time, the pillars lined up and rose high enough that the large, rectangular platform they sprung from broke the surface of the dark eco. Then, starting with the shortest, each pillar sank into the platform taking a large section of floor with it. Each pillar sank further than the last, creating a giant stairwell down to a lower level. Jak rode a waiting elevator down to the platform and made for the stairs.

The pair entered a large room where more of the spiders waited. Once they were dispatched, Jak noticed a huge stone sphere held in place by a rod in an adjoining alcove.

Daxter once again leapt off his companion's shoulder and, as he walked up to the sphere, whipped out an authoritative hand. "Stand aside and let a real man handle this one."

Jak crossed his arms impatiently as Daxter took hold of the rod, which dwarfed him in size. Undaunted, the ottsel pulled on the rod in an effort to dislodge it. The prop didn't budge. Daxter pulled again and again till, with all his might employed, the rod popped loose, causing him to fall to the ground with the force of his own pulling. He stood up, grumbling, and dusted himself off before he heard a foreboding rumbling sound. Looking up, Daxter's jaw dropped open as the enormous stone slowly rolled towards him.

Yelping in fear, the ottsel turned tail and ran down a hallway that he didn't even know was there. He couldn't hear Jak's calls above the quickening pace of his thudding heart, much less the increasing noise of the boulder. To his dismay, the hallway sloped steeper the further he went, and the stone sphere picked up speed. Forcing his little legs to churn faster, Daxter bolted in record speed. Sections of the floor had fallen way, creating large holes that Daxter had to run around. He gasped gratefully when the hallway turned and the boulder collided with the wall, briefly slowing it down. However, his inanimate chaser wasted no time in speeding back up, and Daxter nearly failed to leap over a section of the hallway where the floor was missing entirely. He almost cried out with joy when he saw a pillared archway ahead, too narrow for the boulder to pass. He leapt through and kept running even after he heard the boulder crash into the arch. Scant seconds later, another crash, twice as deafening, split the air and a huge chunk of stone hit Daxter square in the back of the head.

He fell to the ground, groaning, and peeled himself off the floor. He shook his head in an effort to clear it when an ear-splitting hiss sounded behind him. His orange fur stood on end as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder. A gargantuan spider, several times the size of the stone sphere, loomed over him. With a terrified yell, Daxter got up and ran even faster than before down the hallway. Before long one of the smaller spiders—now tiny by comparison—jumped in front of the ottsel. He punched it out of the way and dodged around another one. Eventually he reached another pillared archway, but just like with the first one the giant spider broke through. Around the next bend a large section of missing floor lay in wait. Daxter leapt for the platform in the middle of the hole but landed half on half off. His little arms flailed to regain balance, and he would later think that only his fear of being eaten allowed him to conquer vertigo and jump onward to solid ground. Daxter and his hunter passed through two more pillared arches before the hallway finally ended.

Daxter glanced around in terror—it was a dead end. And then he looked up and saw the ceiling was now far away. Just a few feet in front of him a large spider web wove between two poles. Without hesitating he jumped onto the web and was launched twenty feet up to where another waited to send him up. He landed on a ledge that wound up around the tower room just as the spider careened into sight below. He gulped in air and forced his tired little legs to carry him to the next makeshift trampoline. As he flew up another level, his eyes darted down long enough to see the spider climbing up after him. Adrenaline giving him an extra burst of speed, Daxter scaled another winding ledge and two more spider webs before landing in another hallway.

Exasperation that he still hadn't found a way out mixing in with his fear, the ottsel ran ahead. A hungry hiss heralded the giant spider's arrival in the hallway. Daxter knew he couldn't go on much longer, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness swept over him. If he didn't make it, he would never see he friends again. His legs were preparing to give out when a light suddenly shone at the end of the tunnel: huge and blessedly thick stone doors were sliding shut not far ahead. They would soon cut off the hallway and, if Daxter was lucky, the spider. Summoning up the energy for a final dash, he ran as fast as his leaden legs would carry him till he passed through the doors. He fell to the ground in a furry heap as the spider leapt forward, lodging itself between the doors. He heard the spider hiss and spit as it struggled to force the doors back open, but the arachnid was no match and was closed out.

In the meantime, the sphere's exodus revealed another path which Jak took in the hope that he would find Daxter faster. He raced into a tall and bottomless chamber lined in more ledges and poles. Jak climbed up as quickly as possible and reached the top in just a few minutes. However, rather than finding Daxter he found another balcony wreathed in green flames. The next switch waited, and as soon as it was activated a blue eco beam shot out of the other statue towards the double doors. The twin beams burned into the doors for but a moment when a distant rumbling sounded and they slid open.

Feeling the urgency not only to find Daxter but also to finish his task, Jak stepped onto the waiting platform and impatiently waited for it to lower him to the level of the pool. Deciding skimming above the pool's surface would be faster, he threw the JET-board down on the water and leapt on. He was surprised when the JET-board dipped dangerously low on the right, and he nearly fell in. He quickly discovered steering was impossible—the board could only turn to the right and loop in an uneven circle, all thanks to the shock he got before. Growling in consternation, Jak put the JET-board away and once again trudged through the water as quickly as possible, angrily slapping aside the amphibious creatures. Upon reaching the open doors he found Daxter was waiting for him, arms crossed.

"Daxter, there you are!" He suddenly noticed the ottsel's flattened ears, dirty fur, and furious expression. "What happened to you?"

"I had a hairy experience!" Daxter gesticulated wildly, his voice loud, "No thanks to you!" He curtly crossed his arms again.

Jak was about to ask more questions when the Oracle spoke, "Welcome young warrior."

His attention off Daxter, Jak took a moment to scan the room. Like most areas of the tomb, this chamber was grand and imposing. The ceiling floated hidden in the darkness high above, and the floor fell away into bottomless black. A slightly curved footbridge connected the entrance to a u-shaped walkway lined in large pillars, then a second bridge led to a round platform over which loomed the largest statue Jak had ever seen. It depicted a man, and only the bottom of his ribcage up appeared above the platform as his muscle-bound arms reached round to support it. His face was handsome and grave, and it occurred to Jak that he must be Mar. Far more important than his identity however, the Precursor Stone lay engraved in his chest, glowing a powerful green.

The Oracle continued, "Many eons have passed since our hope burned so brightly. Today you have proven yourself worthy to receive Mar's legacy."

Daxter's frown melted into a happy grin as he placed a gloved hand on his puffed chest. "He's talking about me! Thanks, your holy statueness!" He bowed low to the ground. "This tomb wasn't so tough." He nodded at his surroundings for confirmation.

"What you are about to receive contains grave power, and with it comes grave responsibility. Eons ago, the Precursors waged a terrible war with the Hora-quan, those dark creatures you refer to as 'metal heads.'" Jak began crossing the first bridge and noticed engravings of metal heads on the walls. "Driven by their dark leader, the metal head legions destroyed our great civilization, and now they swarm the universe unopposed looking for the last relics of our power. Mar tried to hide the Precursor Stone in this tomb to protect it from them. It is our last hope, and you were chosen to keep that hope alive."

Jak scowled, briefly putting a hand to his forehead. "I think you've got me confused with someone else. I just want the Stone." He had no interest in being portrayed as some messianic hero, but the Oracle continued as though he hadn't spoken.

"It is time to fulfill your destiny. Behold!"

The Precursor Stone glinted, at last catching Daxter's attention. "Wow! Let's get the goods!"

Suddenly a mechanical whir drew near, and the Baron flew in front of the duo in a flying mech, blocking their path. The monster machine had four legs, and its armor shone blood red in the firelight. He yelled triumphantly, his voice made tinny by mech's speakers, "You fools! You brought me right to the Stone! Your pitiful Underground friends were no match for my guards above!" Jak instantly thought of Keira, and his scowl deepened till his eyes were dangerous blue slits. "Now I will gain the power I need to crush my enemies—" Praxis brought one of his large legs down on the second bridge, causing it to crumble and fall down into the black. Jak had no way to reach the Stone now. "And after claiming the Stone I'll begin with you!" The Baron leapt onto the Statue's chest, and the mech's front arm claws began spinning like drill heads.

The Oracle bellowed, "Abomination! The Precursor Stone was not meant for you!" The great doorsbehind Jak rumbled back to life and shut them inside. There was no running now.

He turned and glared at the Baron just as the drilling arms crashed down on the Stone's casing. Praxis met his eyes impatiently, as though looking at a pestering fly that needs swatting. His voice came out in a low growl, "I grow tired of this. Now you die!"

Several large gun barrels behind the glass cockpit aimed up and out and fired off half a dozen shots that arced gracefully over to the u-shaped walkway. One landed right next to Jak and turned out to be a small, quadruped replica of the larger mech. The spider-like robot quickly gained solid footing and crawled towards him. Jak instinctively pulled out his morph gun and, using the scatter mod, blasted the little robot into oblivion. He ran along the walkway, taking out the rest of them, but no sooner had he destroyed the last one than Praxis let loose a volley of grenades.

The Baron snarled at the statue in consternation, "Give me the Stone!" Jak realized his opponent was paying him as little mind as possible, and an idea occurred to him. Running up to a beeping grenade, he gave it a firm, round-house kick and sent it flying at the Baron's mech. He was so absorbed in his task he failed to dodge the return, and the grenade exploded on impact taking a chunk of armor plating with it.

Jak managed to do the same with three more grenades before the remaining ones detonated and Praxis fired off another round of robots and—to Jak's surprise—dislodged himself from the statue and flew down into the cover of the pit. Jak busied himself with blowing up the mechanical enemies, but scant seconds later the Baron arced back into view and employed the machine guns mounted on the front of his mech. Jak narrowly avoided the rapid fire by diving behind one of the pillars.

Praxis tried a second time to pump his enemy full of eco-charged lead and then returned to the task of dislodging the stone. He fired more grenades, and Jak once again turned the situation to his advantage by launching several back. The elf was feeling confident that the mech would explode before long when the Baron flew off the statue again, this time with a glowing, green object in his claws.

Daxter yelled, "He's got the Precursor Stone!"

The Baron positioned the Stone in front of his mech suit like a weapon—and when he glided down towards Jak that's exactly how he used it. Green bolts of electricity crackled out of the Stone in droves. Jak leapt out of the way, and the powerful current destroyed a portion of the walkway.

"Now you've seen the Stone's power in capable hands!" The Baron simultaneously fired off more grenades and strafed along the walkway, opening up his machine guns without mercy as he laugh maniacally. Jak barely made it behind another pillar in time, and then Praxis disappeared into the pit again. A grenade beeped its countdown five feet away, and Jak waited for the right moment. Seconds later, the Baron rose back into view, and Jak bolted for the grenade. He kicked it towards the flying mech just as the beeping accelerated to the point of no return, and the grenade exploded, leaving a crack in the glass of the cockpit.

This pattern repeated itself three more times before Jak was able to land a final grenade on the mech. It froze in midair, its legs quivering closer to the body, before exploding in a cloud of smoke and flame.

Jak stared at the dissipating combustion, as the acrid smell burned his nostrils. The oddest feeling swelled in his chest as he thought, _Did I kill him?_

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then the Baron flew back into view, now manning just the cockpit like the last time they fought. The Stone glowed in the clutches of the machine, and he flew down and hovered just before Jak, an arrogant smirk on his bearded face. "Nice try, but the Stone is still mine! Don't worry… I will use the Stone to its full potential. Soon, all who oppose me will be destroyed by its power!"

And with that, Baron Praxis flew out of the chamber, victorious.

* * *

Keira looked up as the heavily rusted door slid open. By her estimation, she had been in the fortress for no more than two hours, and the fact that they were coming to get her already could only mean one thing: interrogation.

Two guards stepped in and manhandled her into a standing position without even giving her the opportunity to stand by herself. One of them gripped her injured arm, and she suppressed a cry of pain. She yanked her handcuffed arms free from their grasp and, lifting her head high walked out of the cell. They led her down a long hallway to a shockingly white room that reeked of sterilization. A solitary hanging lamp illuminated the space, and a table with two chairs stood in the middle of the room. Prompted by a gun butt to the back, Keira took a seat and waited.

She didn't have to wait long before a man with the blue-grey facial tattoos of a Krimzon Guard sauntered into the room. He sat with slow deliberation in the chair opposite her as the two soldiers that brought her stood silent against the wall.

"Good evening," he said in a sickly sweet voice that made Keira's stomach flip, "I'm Captain Layton, the officer in charge of this prison tonight."

"Pleased to meet you." She responded sarcastically, not about to give him the pleasure of seeing her fear.

He placed folded hands on the table, smiling. "I'd love to say the same, except I don't know your name. Won't you please tell me?"

Keira replied in mockingly polite language, "I most certainly won't."

Layton stared at her, his level gaze cold despite the smile still on his face. She scowled back, challenging him. Layton smirked at her audacity and nodded toward one of the guards. The next instant Keira had a freezing gun barrel pressing under her chin and crushing her windpipe. Her cuffed hands scrabbled at the rifle in a frantic effort to free herself, but the guard was strong and had excellent leverage standing behind her. She tried coughing, clearing her throat, anything to get another breath, but try as she might she couldn't get around the stranglehold.

Layton had stood and walked around the table. He placed a hand on the table and leaned down till his face was no more than a few inches from hers. He said, his tone low and dangerous, "I suggest you drop the attitude, or you'll wish you choked to death." The guard released Keira, and she fell onto the table, gasping in lungfuls of air.

Layton walked back over to his side. "Next question!" He sat down, his cheerful demeanor returned. "What are the locations of the Underground safe houses?"

She glared at him righteously, ignoring her fear for her own safety. "I don't see why I should have to tell you that when the KG find another one each week. It's the Underground HQ you scumbags need to know about."

Layton looked at her, a warning hidden in his eyes. "If you'll recall my previous statement, I told you to drop the attitude. Now I'll ask you one more time: where are the locations of the Underground safe houses?"

Keira opted for silence this time and glowered at Layton, her lips sealed firmly shut.

The Captain sighed and nodded. One of the guards grabbed her head and slammed her down on the table hard enough for her to see stars. She blinked fiercely, forcing her eyes to focus. Her vision returned in time to see the other one unsheathe a vicious hunting knife.

Layton crossed his arms, a sad expression on his face. "I'm sorry to be forced to do this to you, but you leave me no choice."

"I'll never tell you anything," Keira yelled as she futilely struggled against the guard's grip, "and neither will my comrades! You'll have to kill us first!"

Layton shook his head. "I don't believe you fully understand your predicament. If none of you talk, we will indeed eventually kill you all because you are expendable."

Keira jerked her head up to look at him, horrified.

He chuckled. "You see, the Baron has known the location of your pathetic headquarters for over a year. But now that the Baron has the Precursor Stone—" Keira's heart skipped a beat as it occurred to her that Jak might be dead, "He can rule unopposed. He no longer needs the war with the Metal Heads or the Underground to stay in power."

The guard with the knife grabbed Keira's left ear and drew his blade down on her flesh.

"He will destroy you all."

Keira screamed as the knife slowly cut into her ear.

* * *

time for some keira torture! whoo! unfortunately, i don't think i did a very good job with that little scene, but oh well. i'm just glad i can move on to the next chapter where some very interesting events will occur.

please review!


	17. Here We Are Again

as promised, i didn't take forever to get this chapter out. i likely would've finished sooner if it wasn't for how crazy the end of the semester was. watcha gonna do?

so, the first part of this chapter isn't so interesting, but then things improve dramatically... do enjoy!

* * *

**Those Magic Changes**

**Here We Are Again**

Jak stalked down the stairs to HQ, absorbed in his own thoughts. He shook his head, angry as always. "How did the Baron know we were so close to making a move for the stone?"

"It's my fault." Jak and Daxter turned to see Torn sitting dejectedly on a crate in a back corner of the room. They exchanged as shocked look and glared dangerously at the ex-KG commander. "The Baron threatened to kill Ashelin for spying—" Torn placed a bony hand on his forehead as a slight tremor passed through his body, "his own daughter! I couldn't risk that, even for the Underground."

Daxter drolled, "Right! Very good thinking—except Praxis has the Precursor Stone now, so he can do whatever he wants!" He crossed his little arms indignantly.

Torn breathed deeply and stood up. Some of his usual rough demeanor back in place, he said, "There is still a way to get our friends back and maybe the Precursor Stone as well. I'll find Vin. Go to the fortress and we'll call you."

Jak made a sound of disgust and pointed accusingly at the taller elf. "And why should we trust you?"

Torn leaned towards Jak and said with surprising force, "Because you and I both know the Baron would have killed Ashelin." Jak felt physically affected by the power in Torn's voice and nearly took a step back. For the first time, he wondered what the nature of tactician's relationship with Ashelin was. The thought of her dying was enough to get both elf and ottsel to hang their heads.

Torn continued, "It'll be a tough ride through the fortress, probably suicide."

Jak, who had taken a few steps towards the exit, rounded back on Torn and growled, "You just get that door open! I'll be there."

* * *

"Well, here we are again…" Daxter muttered. The duo stood before the fortress just as they had barely a month earlier. Jak was amazed to think that, a mere six hours ago, he was activating the Light Tower. So much had happened it felt like an eternity had passed, never mind the last time he stormed the fortress.

Jak glared up at the fortress with hatred.

"C'mon, when are they gonna open the door?" Daxter whined. Thanks to Jak's many unauthorized comings and goings, the old KG security passes were deactivated. The only way to get into official compounds nowadays short of asking a random guard for his latest papers was to have Vin hack into the city computer and open whatever door was necessary.

"They had better do it soon." Jak said through grated teeth. Samos, Kor, Keira, and evidently Tess were all imprisoned within. The thought of the torture they were very likely suffering made his blood boil.

Torn and Vin had good timing. After no more than a minute longer, Jak's comm. unit buzzed to life and floated out of his pocket. Torn's gravelly voice crackled out of the small speaker, "You there?"

Jak darkly responded, "Ready to rumble."

"We'll keep our eye on you. We'll call again when you find them." And with that the comm. unit floated back to its home. The locks rotated and the door opened.

Unlike his previous return trip to the fortress, Jak crossed the threshold with ease. No post-traumatic stress was going to get in his way this time.

He glanced around the first room. Thankfully, no security tank was lying in wait for intruders. The two doors stood just as he remembered, except the back one was no longer blocked by white-hot electricity. Jak ran up to the doorway and down the proceeding hallway. He stopped when he heard voices around the corner.

"Got a big bet on the next city race?"

"Errol's my boy! He always wins!"

Pulling out his blaster, Jak rounded the corner, irritated by the guard's praise of the KG commander, and shot the first armored thing that moved. Then all hell broke loose.

He had entered a long room with several platforms lining the pathway to the far side. KG stood on the platforms, hover guards flew up from the pits on either side of the path, and soldiers poured out of the far door.

Jak whipped out his Vulcan Fury mod and barreled into the death trap, firing like a trigger happy drunk in a shooting range. He dodged gunfire almost constantly and was grazed a few times, but he hardly noticed. Just as with all the times he plunged into the chaos of battle, he glazed over and thought little—he simply _did_.

Jak wasn't sure how long he fought the onslaught of guards, but he eventually stood in the far doorway, surrounded by red-armored corpses. He stared into the subsequent room where an electrified door waited. A glowing red floor switch lay embedded in front of the door, reflecting the blue currents. He ran over and stomped on it, but the obstacle stayed fast. Frowning, he ran back to the previous room for a second look. Each of the platforms had a matching red switch. He quickly set about pushing every one, and when he made it back to the doorway, the electricity was deactivated and gone.

Daxter suddenly yelled, "Jak, watch out for the laser!"

Jak leapt nimbly into the air just in time to dodge the laser-sight of a rotating turret in the next room. He ran in and found four turrets, rotating at different times and levels, blocking his progress over a series of platforms to a dimly glowing opening at the far end. Jak proceeded cautiously, observing the timing of each rotation. When he had watched each gun rotate several times, he proceeded forward. The lowest laser-sight swept towards him, and he jumped to avoid it with ease. The second lowest laser-sight swiftly swung around, and Jak narrowly avoided detection by twisting mid-air. Or so he thought. The laser-sight passed over the toe of his right boot, and the turret immediately locked on and fired. Barely landing on his feet, Jak bolted for the ledge and bodily leapt on top of the turret where its eye couldn't see. He ducked low to avoid the highest laser-sight and breathed deeply, preparing himself to continue. Only by timing his jumps very carefully was Jak able to reach the far side in one piece.

The dimly glowing opening widened into a large room, the main feature of which was an enormous half-pipe. Brackets conducting livid electricity slid along the deeply curved floor, hissing loudly. However, their pace was sluggish. Jak easily evaded the obstacle and traversed down the half-pipe to another room. When the noise of the conductors receded, he could dimly pick out more KG voices. They had to be around the bend however, as all Jak could see were two more turrets rising out of a pit. The only way to cross was a narrow rail, but walking slowly across would be impossible. The turrets' sights crossed paths every few seconds, so speed was of the essence. With no other choice, Jak pulled the JET-board off his back and coiled up in preparation. No sooner had the laser-sights veered away from each other than Jak ran for the rail. He threw the JET-board down and leapt on. Expecting it to turn right, he leaned hard to the left, so hard he nearly feel off.

He was halfway across. It seemed he might make it across easily enough when the JET-board spasmed beneath him and slipped off the rail. Daxter let out a terrified yelp, and for an eternal, stomach-lurching moment, Jak though he would fall to his death. He somehow managed to grab hold of the rail as well as the board. He threw the useless machinery to the other side, knowing without really thinking that Keira would be furious if he lost one of her creations, and monkey-armed his way across.

He gratefully hauled himself up on the ledge, placed the JET-board back in its strap, and stealthily weaved through a series of consoles around the next bend. He was greeted with fire from above. At least half a dozen soldiers, alerted by Daxter's yell, fired through the grated ceiling, raining death down on Jak. He bolted through the maze of consoles and pipes amidst shouts of, "Shoot him! Shoot him!" He finally came upon a rising ramp where the grated ceiling stopped, but by the time he was out of range he came across two more guards. These ones, however, were easily visible, and he dispatched them with a bullet a piece. The following two hover guards and turrets were not as easy to deal with.

Jak dove behind a console for cover and, occasionally popping up to get in a hit, eventually took care of his assailants. He eluded the laser-sights of the turrets and ran across a short bridge to another doorway, this one closed. But it soon slid open, granting him easy passage. Assuming Vin knew where he was by way of the fortress security cameras, he had to admire the jumpy elf's handiwork. He followed a staircase down and was immediately greeted with spider-like robots like the ones in Mar's Tomb jumping out of a pit. They came in endless waves, like the ocean crashing on a beach, and Jak frantically looked around for a way out as he destroyed them with his scatter gun. Another small staircase led to large door. Wasting no time with the stairs, Jak jumped directly down to the door and slipped through as soon as it was open wide enough.

He straightened up to meet the next challenge only to feel a wave of ice travel down his spine.

He was in the dark eco injection chamber.

Everything looked exactly the same. Dim, slightly green lights illuminated the cavernous room in an eerie glow. Cells and catwalks lined the chamber, and profuse clouds of smoke billowed up through grates in the floor. Across the narrow bridge, the cold metal table waited, the injection machine hovering menacingly above it.

Jak stared wide-eyed at the table, breaking into a cold sweat. But he didn't have much longer to ponder his demons; there was work to be done.

Daxter called out, "Samos, Kor, Keira, sugar lips! You here?"

There were three answering calls, each with varying degrees of strength. Jak quickly noted the cells they came from as the comm. unit flew from his pocket.

"What cells are they in?" Torn asked unprompted.

Jak responded, "1056, 1057, and 1059."

The scraggly sound of Vin muttering in the background came through before Torn finished, "Report back to HQ as soon as you're out." He signed off, and the cell doors groaned to life.

Daxter jumped off Jak's shoulder and scuttled over to the nearest cell. He peeked in and swiftly pulled back to set himself in a cool leaning pose against the wall. The door fully opened, revealing Tess standing impatiently.

Daxter grinned wide and said, "Hey there, sweetheart! The metal head masher has saved the day!" He pointed over his shoulder as his voice dropped off slightly, "Oh, and I let Jak tag along too."

Tess didn't seem to notice the blonde elf at all, however, and reached down to grab the ottsel in a hug. "Oh, my little hero!"

Disinterested in observing the mushy pair, Jak walked over to the next cell. The Shadow waited inside, standing next to a lumpy cot, looking somewhat bewildered. "Samos, are you alright?"

What happened next, Jak couldn't wrap his mind around if he tried. Another short, green man popped into view. He had no afro, and his hair was completely white. He wore the garb of a resident of Sandover Village. He ranted in an too familiar voice, "What took you so long? I added six rings to my trunk waiting for you two to get me out of here!"

Samos the Sage walked out of the cell, his wooden staff clicking on the metal floor as his little bird resident fluttered its wings in agitation and shifted around on his log. Jak gaped at the short elf, his lips moving soundlessly. He whipped his head back to the Shadow, dumbfounded.

The old Samos yelled, stealing back Jak's attention, "Great Yakow horns! What happened to you, Jak??" He moved in close to Jak's face, his bespectacled eyes scrutinizing.

Daxter had extricated himself from Tess' clutches long enough to catch sight of the two Samos' and point at each in surprise. "Wait a minute! You're you! I mean the other you! I mean… you know what I mean."

The Shadow walked out of the cell. "Yes, it appears I have an older time twin." His voice was filled with wonder. He undoubtedly must still be absorbing the idea himself. He looked at his older self and said in a quietly amazed tone, "Great grass grubs! I can't believe what a cranky old log I've become!"

"Two Samos the Sages?" Daxter blinked several times and then yelled, "Yaagh! Jak, they're multiplying!" He dove behind his companion's boots, his tail stiff.

Old Samos made an authoritative fist and took control of the situation. "We need to find the kid, pronto!" He had undoubtedly been filled on the events of the past two years.

Young Samos disagreed. "What are you talking about, old growth? The kid already opened the tomb. Our top priority should be to disrupt the Baron's forces!" He spoke with condescension, as if the older of the two must be an idiot to think otherwise.

Old Samos rose to the challenge. "Oh, look who thinks they sprouted! If you were half as wise as I am, you'd know that the proper course of action is to find the kid!"

Jak and Daxter looked at the pair dryly, already impatient with Samos' all too familiar style of reprimanding lecture.

"Listen, you old, dried up leaf, I run this outfit! And I say we go after the Baron's forces!"

Daxter jumped up between the two, pushing them apart with a foot and a paw to each one's shoulder. "Do we have to separate you two?"

As the argument raged on, Jak took the opportunity to investigate the last cell. Inside he found Keira, leaning shakily against the wall. She tightly gripped her injured arm, and twin trails of mostly dry blood dripped down her neck and chest from her ears. Each ear was missing a triangular chunk of flesh.

She said with a smile that was really more of a grimace, "Just thought I'd rest and wait for you to walk in."

Jak took a few steps toward her. "Keira, you're—"

She held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. "I'll walk out myself thanks." She pushed off from the wall and did just that.

Everyone else caught sight of her soon after. She waved with her good arm. "Hi, daddy."

Old Samos yelled, "Keira! What did they do to you??" He ran up to her, and she dropped to her knees to hug the little man.

"Nothing much, daddy, just a little interrogation. Sorry I was so quiet before." Jak assumed her comment meant the group had conversed through the bars of their cell doors earlier. Keira squeezed her father, her eyes shut tight. "I missed you so much!"

Tess noted in a quiet voice, "The triangle cut is a common method with the KG."

Jak watched the embrace, a little embarrassed, but he was determined to keep an eye on Keira on the off chance that she would fall over. To his surprise, she was little else than slightly rattled. She moved with a certain strength that belied a recent torture experience.

Suddenly remembering that one was unaccounted for, he asked, "Where's Kor?"

Old Samos pulled away from his daughter to stare at the blonde elf. "You spoke, Jak…"

Jak rolled his eyes, short on patience and completely disinterested in explaining himself to the sage. Thankfully, Daxter piped up, "Yeah, that just sorta happened. Prison'll do that to ya." Samos stared at the ottsel, evidently having heard nothing about Jak's ordeals over the past two years.

The Shadow turned to Jak and responded to his earlier question, "I'm still not sure how it happened, but Kor escaped as we were being marched to the fortress. He managed to break free and disappear into the crowd."

A subtle whirring caught Jak's attention, and he looked over his shoulder to see the nearby warp gate spinning to life. He turned back to the group in front of him. "Vin's activating the warp gate. We need to get out of here now!"

Everyone nodded and began moving toward the swirling circle when a new voice weakly called, "…Keira?"

She froze in her tracks. Her eyes darted towards a cell in the corner, wide and even greener in the odd light.

Receiving no answer, the voice called out again, "Keira, is that you?"

Her brow twisted and her eyes somehow grew larger as her lips parted. Her face transformed into one Jak hadn't seen in years: she wasn't Keira the Underground member, she was Keira of Sandover.

She yelled, "RYKER!" She dashed toward the cell. "Jak, radio Torn! Open up cell 1066!"

Dazed by her reaction to whoever "Ryker" was, Jak pulled back out his comm. unit and made the request.

Torn was surprised too. "Ryker? He's _alive_?" He pulled away from his own unit and passed on the order to Vin.

Moments later, the door of 1066 slid to the side and Keira rushed in. Everyone else headed over to see what was going on. Jak's instant reaction was intense jealousy.

Keira had her arms around an emaciated man who leaned on her as though he might pass out. He clung to her, elation gracing his expression even through the haze of what appeared to be years of rotting in prison—the elation of a man in love.

Keira whispered, "I thought you were dead!"

He pulled away far enough to look at her. "I thought I was hallucinating at first, but it's really you." His voice was thin and quavering, rough from disuse, but his golden eyes were adoring. Jak ground his teeth together in an effort to keep still.

Keira placed a hand on his hollowed cheek and nodded. She looked like she might cry, but her eyes were completely dry.

Ryker saw her ears and looked pained by the sight. But then he smirked. "Not only are you wearing Viv's jacket, but you got the triangle cut. Now we're both like her." He gestured at his own mutilated ears, long since healed over.

Keira's eyes lit up at the name. "And Vivian?" Ryker shook his head, and her countenance sunk just as fast as it had risen.

Tess and the Shadow approached the pair. The buxom blonde grinned at Ryker. "We thought you were dead, speedy."

The Shadow reached up to the taller elf and shook his bony hand. "We're glad to have you back, Crys Ryker."

Ryker nodded at the green man. "Thanks, chief."

Jak, thoroughly sickened by the reunion before him, could no longer contain himself and said in a rough voice, "Unless you all want to get locked up again, I suggest we get the hell out of here."

Ryker looked at Jak for the first time. His golden eyes were dissecting, and Jak fought off the desire to fidget. A glint of recognition and then challenge came into Ryker's eyes, and Jak scowled at the brown-haired elf. Keira resituated herself under Ryker's arm so she could support him, and with him standing a little straighter Jak could easily tell that Ryker was nearly a full head taller than he was. Jak selfconsciously straightened up.

The group, matching Ryker's pace, slowly made its way over to the warp gate as Daxter climbed back onto Jak's shoulder. The ottsel leaned on his companion's head and said, "Well how about that. Looks like you got some competition, big guy."

Jak glared up at Daxter who nonchalantly shrugged. When everyone else had entered the warp gate, Jak followed suit.

* * *

Ryker let out an exhausted sigh. He was propped into a sitting position against the headboard of one of the bunks in the outer sanctum of HQ. Torn had just finished debriefing everyone involved with Mar's Tomb and the fortress break. For the moment, he was alone. Only the crackle and hiss of the furnace fire kept him company, but he didn't mind. The evening had been entirely too exciting for a person in his condition.

Since his imprisonment eighteen months earlier, he had only left his cell three times, each for interrogation. And that was just in the first month. Then, he had been left to waste away in solitude. Now, the effects of no sunlight, malnutrition, and starvation had taken a severe toll. He was a shadow of his former self. His once healthy body was now a pile of skin and bones. He was incredibly weak and couldn't walk on his own. And then there were the dark eco injections on top of it.

The hidden door opened and Torn entered the room carrying a steaming bowl of something that smelled delicious. The constant ache of hunger Ryker was used to spiked painfully high, and his mouth watered. "What've you got there?"

"Yakow stew. The meat's been ground up, so you shouldn't have to chew much." Torn held the bowl out under Ryker's nose.

Ryker inhaled deeply, relishing the heady bouquet. "…You're a golden god and I worship you!" Even employing his old humor, Ryker sounded hollow. He gripped the bowl with a shaking hand but he didn't have the strength to hold it and would've dropped it if Torn hadn't still been supporting it.

Torn quietly sat down on Ryker's bunk and set about spoon feeding the invalid his very late supper—it was after one in the morning.

Torn watched the brunette elf chew, fascinated; he looked like he was in heaven, but as soon as he finished the bite and met Torn's eyes he blushed, of all things. "Sorry."

The ex-KG commander blinked. "Why?"

"Because I'm so helpless you're feeding me. It's a tad bit embarrassing, I'll have you know."

Torn gave him another bite. "Well you're just going to have to get used to it. I doubt you'll have the strength to eat on your own any time soon."

After a minute or so of silence, Ryker asked, "So, how's Ash?"

Torn half-smiled. "She's a headstrong pain in the ass, as always."

Ryker chuckled and then violently coughed before saying, "Exactly the same, then."

Torn nodded, a rare smile on his face.

"In that case, you must not be catching too many Zs lately." Ryker said suggestively, his eyebrows shifting up and down.

Torn looked at the joking elf without a trace of humor in his tattooed face. He growled defensively, "That's not why."

"Right, right… I bet she's a big help though. To the Underground." Torn nodded an affirmative. He suddenly seemed exhausted, as though he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Ryker asked, "What's the next move?"

Torn shook his head. "I don't know. Now that the Baron has the Precursor Stone, who knows how long he'll wait to wipe us out." He sounded on the verge of despair, which Ryker enjoyed in a way. Being the strong leader that he was, Torn hated showing weakness or anything that may lower morale. He had to be a rock for those under his command. The fact that Torn was letting his honest thoughts show was a powerful indication that he considered Ryker a trusted friend.

After another silence, Torn said, "I still can't believe you're alive."

Ryker swallowed, an action which seemed to take a great deal of effort, and responded, "I can't either. I doubt I would've lasted much longer though, so your timing was excellent."

Torn considered his statement. "But you were lasting longer than most."

Ryker shrugged and then winced. "Three months of weekly injections is a long time I guess." His eyes grew far off and cold. "But Viv… Viv lasted for a whole year—longer than I ever could. She might still be alive if they had started on her later…"

Torn fed his friend another bite. "Praxis will do anything for more power. At least you were able to give us an idea of what the Dark Warrior Program is." Thinking that he may have sounded callous, Torn added, "I only ever met her once, but she was definitely one hell of a woman."

Ryker grinned. He said, his mouth full, "She told me once she thought you had a cute butt."

He earned the expected reaction. Torn's hand stopped halfway to Ryker's mouth, the spoon in danger of dripping stew on the blankets. The ex-KG commander's face was timidly flattered and deeply skeptical, as it always was whenever women and their thoughts on him were brought up. Recalling himself to the task at hand, the spoon made it the rest of the way to its destination. He dropped it in the now empty bowl with a clang.

"Well done, soldier. You made it through your first real meal. All we need to do now is throw in some of those old KG drills and you'll be back in shape before you can say 'yes, sir.'"

Ryker smiled and muttered, "Yes, sir." He chuckled weakly.

The jarring sound of the wall sliding open heralded a new arrival. Keira walked in, ears bandaged in addition to her arm, and paused. She was evidently surprised to see the pair as they were.

Torn took the opportunity to stand up and head for the hidden door. It was time to withdraw to his private quarters and collapse. He told Ryker over his shoulder, "Get some rest." He passed a wide-eyed Keira and disappeared into the hidden door.

The aqua-haired elf's gaze settled on her ill friend, a single eyebrow raised in question.

Ryker managed to make a show of innocence, just like he always did when he got that look. "How're the ears?" He asked, his tremulous voice devoid of guilt.

"Not too bad now that they've been properly cleaned and I've been properly medicated." She refused to let him scrape by and calmly stated, "Torn's never that friendly with anyone." Her expression suggested that he better not think of evading an honest conversation.

"Yeah, well… we're old KG buddies."

Keira raised both her eyebrows now. She walked over to his bedside and took a seat. "I have a hard time imagining you, a consummate rebel and perpetrator of sedition, signing up for the Krimzon Guard."

Ryker looked down at his hands, draped over his satisfied stomach. "I was in training for a whole six months before I caught on to the hypocrisy of it all. Torn was sort of like my mentor." He weakly smiled, remembering past antics.

She asked, her voice soft, "How are you feeling?"

"I have a full belly for the first time in over a year, so pretty good."

She smiled playfully. "You sound and look awful."

His gaze lifted backed to Keira's. "You're not so hot yourself right now. You're all mummified and you look like you haven't slept in days." He paused. "Actually, that's an exaggeration. You're damn fine for a sleepy mummy."

Although she rolled her eyes, still grinning, her cheeks didn't flush a delicious red the way they used to at such flirting. She was changed. The humor disappeared from his voice. "So you went ahead and joined the Underground." He raised a hand to touch the part of his left ear where flesh once was. "I didn't want this for you. You should've put everything behind you like Viv said."

Keira's smile faded. "Do you honestly believe I could just forget about what happened to you two and live a normal life?" Her tone was dead serious.

He measured her expression before saying, "I suppose I owe you an explanation after everything that's happened."

She inclined her head. "I suppose you do."

He looked away from her again, unable to look her in the eye. He took a deep breath and started, "My parents were killed by the Underground, or so I was told in order to keep me happily brainwashed. That's why I joined the KG in the first place. Naturally, the Baron was responsible for my parents' death, not to mention countless others. I quit my training when I was sixteen. I had no money, no home, no family, so I joined one of the many slum gangs. It was then that I discovered racing." The corner of his mouth twitched in a wisp of a nostalgic smile. "But after a couple years, that all came crashing down too. The Baron arrested any 'delinquents' he could find. That's when Viv found me. She introduced me to the worlds of pro racing and the Underground Movement, two things I knew I would be good at. You showed up about a year later, Viv and I were eventually found out, and the rest you know."

Ryker looked at Keira again. Her face was pained. Her brow was furrowed, her eyes half closed, and her lips were ever so slightly distorted in a very subtle grimace. He couldn't help but also notice the lovely shade of pink her lips were in the low lighting. His tongue tingled as it remembered unbidden the taste of those lips.

Keira broke his reverie and said, "Actually, I don't know the rest. We were debriefed individually after all."

Ryker sighed, and she immediately backpedaled, "But you don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to…"

"No, I want to tell you," He placed a hand over hers and softly squeezed, grateful that he no longer felt behooved to silence, "believe it or not… To put it simply, I basically hadn't left that cell since they put me in. I was underfed. And a few months ago experimentation was thrown into the mix."

Keira prodded, "Experimentation?"

"Torture more like. I was subjected to dark eco injections."

"Injections? You mean they..." Keira trailed off, and her curious expression was replaced by a look of horror. Like most, she had never heard of such an abominable practice.

He continued, "It was all through something called the Dark Warrior Program. All I could find out was its goal: to create a superhuman army. In the end all it did was kill people. Viv went through the same ordeal—longer than I did. That's how she died."

Keira placed her free hand over his, causing him to look her in the eye again. She appeared tired and in a certain degree of physical and emotional pain, but there was a warmth in her green gaze. She said, her voice affectionate and comforting, "I'm glad you're alive, Crys. I missed you."

Ryker looked up at the rough slats of the bunk above, taken aback. "Well that's unusual. Busting out my first name and all." He paused and swallowed, feeling the need to collect himself, before adding, "I missed you too… The thought of you kept me going all that time." Feeling in control again, he looked back at her and started to ask, "Is—"

Keira waited, her beautiful eyes urging him to continue. "…'Is' what?"

Ryker closed his eyes. He was having difficulty with the way his heart twisted every time he looked at her. "Nothing. Never mind." He could wait till later to ruin the moment by bringing _him_ up.

When he didn't open his eyes back up, Keira took that as a signal that he was done talking. "It's time you went to bed. Here, I'll help you."

"No," he said, his eyes still closed, "I'm just as happy staying put. I'll sleep out here."

There was a moment of pregnant silence before he heard the scrape of her feet on the cement floor as she stood up to leave. "Alright then. Good night." There was a series of soft steps walking away, and then they stopped. "It _is _good to have you back, Ryker." The hidden door clanked and whirred open, and she was gone.

There was no reason to give up. Not yet.

* * *

weren't expecting that, were you? at least i hope not. it's always satisfying to pull a fast one!

ryker's so much fun to write for! he's such a good-humored guy, even though he can't handle dark eco. jak once again proves that he is probably the only person who could ever survive dark eco injections. now he just needs to prove that he can get over himself.

and, after many, many moons, it's time for another thanks section! this time the acknowledgment goes to **Princess Serena til Universo**!

_you've become a faithful reviewer since last spring, and you're very encouraging! you've told me a couple times that this is one of your favorite jak fanfics ever, and hearing that makes me smile and helps me to write more. thanks so much for the support! :)  
_

as always, i'm dying to know your thoughts! review!


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